


Chandrila Manor

by HalfwayThrough



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1840s england, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, ghosts and spirits oh my, jane eyre meets crimson peak meets reylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-10-28 17:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfwayThrough/pseuds/HalfwayThrough
Summary: Rey Niima arrives in the England countryside as Chandrila Manor's new housekeeper only to find no family to take care of. Alone except for the kind groundskeeper Finn and the less than pleasant executor Hux, Rey tries to settle into her new life in the countryside. That is until she discovers something else living with them, a friend or foe she can't be sure. But the longer she stays in Chandrila Manor the more she discovers that no one is who they say they are.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my entry for the Amid Secrets and Monsters Anthology. It's my first time working with the anthology and I had so much fun doing it! Special thanks to alderaanbby on tumblr for betaing this piece! She is an absolute gem and this story wouldn't be the same without her.
> 
>   


The carriage wheels ground to a halt in the gravel of the wide, circling drive. Rey peered out of the window as it grew foggy from her own anxious breaths. She made out dreary grey brick and darkened windows before the driver blocked her view, opening the door and offering a hand. She swallowed hard before stepping down as gracefully as she could. She wasn’t a refined lady, but she knew how to hold herself so as not to embarrass herself. 

She looked to the heavy oak doors and the thick stone steps leading up to it. Only two souls stood waiting to greet her. She had met the first man once before, a Mr. Armitage Hux. He seemed to come from money, or had at least made a bit of it. He had bright red hair slicked back close to his head and a red mustache kept meticulously trimmed close to his lip. Rey had interviewed with him in town, going over letters recommending her character and skills as a housekeeper from her school. He seemed fidgety, his fingers playing with the paper in his hands. 

The second man was younger, with dark skin and kind eyes. He was dressed down, in pants, a white shirt, and a vest. His boots were dirty as if from trudging through mud. He gave her a small smile and it was infectious enough that Rey returned it. The driver dropped her small bag of belongings into her hand and she started forward, crossing into the shadow the massive building cast across the grounds. It was three stories high, with a window placed every three feet. The massive house loomed over the two men like a castle in a fairytale. It certainly seemed tall enough for a princess to be stuck on the upper most floor, locked away from the rest of the world. Thick columns reached overhead, holding balconies in place for its occupants to look over and yearn for more, or whatever one does on a balcony. 

“Miss Niima, welcome to Chandrila Manor,” Mr. Hux said. He didn’t bother giving her a customary nod and she swallowed the insult and gave him a shallow curtsey. 

“I’m grateful to be here, Mr. Hux,” she said, parroting one of the many phrases drilled into her mind at school. The Jakku School for Girls produced more cooks and housekeepers and maids than any other establishment in the area, and they were very efficient in their teachings. No one ever bothered to ask the girls if they wanted either of those careers, but that didn’t seem to occur to anyone. 

“This is Finn, the groundskeeper,” Hux said, lazily gesturing to the man beside him. They shared a nod. 

“Here is a list of your duties,” Hux said, shoving the paper towards her with a sharp jerk of his wrist. “I have business to attend to, but I’m sure the gardener can show you around.” 

He gave the smallest of nods before disappearing through the large, ornate doors. Rey balked for a moment. For a house so large and empty, she thought the only two occupants would have formed some kind of relationship. She looked to Finn who was shrugging off the insult easily, as if he was used to such backhanded remarks.

“Don’t worry, he’s not around a lot. Doesn’t really like the place,” Finn whispered giving her a wink. Good to know there would be at least on friendly face in the Manor.

Finn reached forward to take her bag. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Rey started up the steps to the front door and Finn gently laid a hand on her forearm. 

“Mr. Hux says help has to use the back entrance,” he said coldly, as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Rey nodded and followed him down a gravel path through the gardens towards the side door leading to the basement. The grass was bright and lush, with beautiful yellow and pink flowers blooming along the path. She looked across the grounds spread out behind the house. Large willow trees dangled their leaves towards a pond. A pair of ducks swam across the smooth surface. Rey was surprised Finn was able to take care of the whole thing on his own, and so well. 

“You’re very talented Mr-,” Rey began, following Finn down the steps to where he held the side door open for her. She faltered, realizing she didn’t have a proper surname to use to address him. 

“Dameron,” he offered with a wide smile. “But Finn is fine.” 

“It would have been polite for Mr. Hux to include your surname in your introduction,” Rey said. The gratitude she felt towards Mr. Hux for hiring her was fading fast. He had managed to leave a strong impression with very few words. At least he was quick about letting a worker know exactly what he thought of them and their class. 

“He doesn’t seem to care for it,” Finn said, brushing off Rey’s comment and Hux’s insult as if it was commonplace for a man to ignore another’s name. Rey reminded herself she was walking into an established work environment and it was best to keep to herself and simply observe for a while before openly passing judgement. Even if Hux seemed to deserve the gossip.

Rey stepped into the cool, dim basement and found a rather dreary scene. It was the house’s kitchen, but completely empty. The stove was cold, the wood piled up beside it showing signs of rot. The cupboards were mainly bare, save for a few canisters of coffee. 

“Where’s the cook?” she inquired, removing her bonnet. 

“We don’t have one,” Finn said, crossing across the kitchen and into a corridor. Rey followed close behind. Her skirts kicked up dust as she moved through the room. 

“Well, what does the family eat then?” she chuckled. Finn stopped and turned around to look at her. 

“The Solos haven’t lived here in decades,” he said quietly, as if afraid Hux would hear him from the other end of the mansion. 

“Then who does?” 

“Hux, half of the time, me and now you,” Finn said.

Rey blinked. 

“What exactly is there for me to do?” Rey questioned. There was no lady of the house to help dress, no dinners to clean up after, not even a child to mind. Just an empty house, a disgruntled caretaker and a talented gardener. 

“Plenty.” Finn spoke as if telling a joke but Rey didn’t see the humor in it at all. She was about to inquire further when he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. “This is where you’ll be staying. I’m just down the hall if you ever need anything.” 

Rey peeked inside the small stone room. It was only a bit wider than the hallway itself, with a narrow bed pressed against one wall and a small writing desk and chair on the other. A thin window high up on the wall near the ceiling let it in the only light.

“I don’t suppose Mr. Hux approves of us being housed in the unused rooms upstairs,” she scoffed. 

Finn shook his head giving a bitter chuckle. “He does not.” 

“Well, thank you, Mr. Dameron,” Rey said, taking the bag from her new companion. Despite the loneliness of the empty manor, Rey tried to take comfort in knowing she wouldn’t have that many duties to attend to and perhaps could spend a lot of her time in the garden with Finn. He seemed friendly enough, and she didn’t know what else she might do. “I’m sure I’ll settle in quite nicely here.”

* * *

Rey found the list of chores Hux gave her to be far more extensive than she thought. He wanted every single room in the Manor to be dusted twice a week at the absolute minimum. Rugs were to be taken out and beaten weekly, linens were to be changed and washed every month, and baseboards scrubbed monthly. It seemed like quite a monumental task for a single person to undertake, especially in an empty house. 

Rey sighed. The day was still young and she had already unpacked what little she had brought with her and settled into her room. A small drawer in the desk housed her nightgown and another simple work dress. She laid her hairbrush on the desk. It had been a gift from Rose and the other girls at school. They’d wrapped it in tissue paper and had been so excited to give it to her. 

“So you can look irresistible to all the young lords and they’ll just have to shed their titles and run off with you!” They erupted into giggles, quickly dismissing the idea that any young heir would ever give up their inheritance for a maid. However, it was a common fancy among them. They’d go about their chores around the school, practicing their letters and writing and make up wild stories among themselves. It always started the same: a young woman freshly graduated from the Jakku School for Girls was hired by an old and illustrious family. She’d be simply too beautiful and interesting for their eldest son to ignore. Sometimes they’d immediately fall into rapture in the library and hold a secret relationship under his parents’ noses. Other times it would build more slowly. The boy was often rude at first, and over time his heart would soften and he’d slip love letters beneath her door in the early morning hours. 

Honestly, the school should have considered producing romance novels. They would have made a fortune on Rey’s class alone. 

Her fingers ran across the handle of the brush. It would be a fond reminder of her time at school, but something she couldn’t linger on forever. Afterall, there was no young baron to seduce at Chandrila Manor. She was a woman now, working for her own money. Her debts to the school would be paid off in five years time at the rate of payment Hux had promised, and then she would be able to save every last penny she earned. 

Then Rey could really live.

* * *

Rey started on the main floor under the assumption Hux didn’t care how often the servants’ quarters were cleaned because he neglected to mention them on his list. Bit odd, seeing as it was most lived-in space of the whole building. 

The foyer of the house was absolutely magnificent. Dark wood spread across the entire space and a thick Persian rug with elaborate swirling gold designs lay across the middle. The room was positioned in just a way that when a person entered the front double doors, two large staircases were on display, curving around so that they met each other on the second floor. A large chandelier hung over the entryway, its candles half burnt and covered in a thick layer of dust. 

Rey wondered how Mr. Hux expected her to clean it. 

Her eyes slid over the other ornaments of the room. Large blue and white vases with little designs painted on them. Statues of men in armor and women in long draped robes. Portraits of, what she assumed to be, the Solo family. She ran a rag over the frames, clearing them of the layer of dust that had settled over the entire home. Hux had mentioned it had been over a month since the last housekeeper had left and Rey was seeing the signs of neglect. 

She moved to the next painting, that of a young woman with fierce brown eyes, and wondered why the previous woman had left. Was she to be married? Perhaps the loneliness of the manor had gotten to her. Perhaps she went insane. 

Now that would be a fun story. 

Rey moved from painting to painting around the foyer until she reached one singled out from the rest. While the others were arranged on the outer walls together, this one hung where the staircases met, all by itself. 

She approached it, taking in the subject of the piece. It was a young man, pale as a ghost with thick dark curls surrounding his face like a halo. He had a severe expression on his face, his eyes focused on something beyond the painter -- beyond Rey. She dusted the frame, admiring how oil smeared against canvas could look so alive. She would have liked to study it more, but too much of the house still needed attending to. 

Rey walked through the foyer to the first floor wing. Hux had described each wing in excruciating detail in his note. She didn’t quite see why it was crucial that every first floor room had dark red curtains; it wasn’t like anyone was around to see them. She shouldn’t complain too much. After all, it was a job, and a rather easy one at that. The older girls had sent back letters describing houses of pure terror. Abusive mistresses and handsy masters that made their job all but impossible. Rey took a breath, deciding the empty drawing room around her was far preferable to dealing with any kind of master. 

Rey moved throughout the drawing room, quickly sweeping the floor so she could move on to the next room. It wasn’t a large room, and she didn’t think it would take too long to dust. She had hoped to complete a round of the house this afternoon so she was familiar with everything, but she was unsure if she could achieve it. Rey went to clean the mantle of the ornate fireplace set in the wall when she noticed something on the rug in front of it. The Persian rug was a mix of cool reds and light pinks swirling around each other, a design that surely cost a pretty penny, and right across the middle was a set of thick, sooty boot prints. 

Rey gasped, her first instinct to check her path through the room to make sure she hadn’t trekked it in. Her own shoes were clean; the mess must have already been set into the rug before she entered. She walked over to the mess, placing her own foot beside the print. The sooty mark dwarfed her own shoe. The marks seemed to lead straight out of the fireplace and then stopped partway across the carpet. 

Perhaps Finn had lit a fire and tracked in the mess? She’d confront him about it later and make it very clear that she would not be cleaning up after his messes. 

The rest of the first floor was uneventful. More rooms full of furniture and priceless ornaments but without a soul to appreciate them. Rey had only just began the second floor when the sun started to dip below the horizon. She had no candle to light the dark rooms and reluctantly traveled back down the stairs to the servant floor. She stepped into the kitchen to find Finn at the stove.

“Miss Niima, dinner will be ready in a bit!” Finn said with a smile before nodding to the table behind him. “You can take a seat.” 

Rey crossed to the table that took up most of the room. In other large homes, a gaggle of servants would sit around it: peeling potatoes, darning socks, chatting about the latest gossip. Instead, it was just her seated at the table watching Finn in the flickering candle light.

“So you’re the groundskeeper and the chef?” Rey teased. Finn looked over his shoulder at her, his face breaking into a warm smile. 

“There isn’t really anyone around to do it. Mr. Hux isn’t about to fry his own bacon.” They both chuckled and Finn moved the pot he was working with off the stove and over to the table. He ladled the contents into a bowl before passing it to Rey. “Nothing much, but it does the job.” 

Rey peered into the bowl and found a stew of strange oddities. There seemed to be chunks of beef in it, but also what appeared to be diced ham. Some mushy looking vegetables also floated in the thin broth. What a pity he spent so much time growing the vegetables only to butcher them.

“Maybe we can trade off cooking days,” Rey suggested, slowly bring a spoonful of the concoction to her lips. It tasted exactly like one might expect: chunks of beef, diced ham, and soggy carrots in water. “I really don’t mind.” 

Rey did mind the chore, but the suggestion was more for self preservation than anything else. Who knows how long Hux and Finn had been living on watery soup, not for lack of means, but lack of skill or imagination. Rey was not much of a cook, but she knew how to bake bread and cook a simple stew with a semblance of flavor unlike the watery concoction before them. 

“We can share recipes,” she said, hoping it wasn’t too obvious what she was trying to do. 

“Oh, that’d be great!” Finn said, his shoulders slumping over his own bowl as he took a seat. “Honestly, I’ve gotten tired of eating stew but I don’t know how to make much of anything else.” 

Rey gave him a smile. The more she interacted with the man, the warmer he seemed. A kind gentle soul who was well aware of his own capabilities. While he was a novice in the kitchen, in the garden, he was definitely the master. 

“So, you do the grounds all by yourself?” Rey asked, moving the conversation along. 

“Most of the time, yes,” Finn said, talking around a chunk of beef. “Sometimes I get a bit of help.” 

“Oh? There’s a fourth person out in the empty hills of the countryside?” Rey asked, suddenly curious. After being in a school where she had shared just about every inch of space with three other people, the emptiness around her felt, well, empty. Everything was too quiet and too cold to the touch. Not that she was complaining, after all she was getting a bed to herself tonight for the first time in years. But it was a culture shock. Finn looked over his shoulder quickly before leaning over his bowl to her. 

“Yes, but promise me you won’t tell Mr. Hux about him?” Finn whispered. 

“Of course,” Rey said immediately. As far as first impressions went, Hux had made a rather chilled one and she felt little loyalty to him, if any at all. 

“There’s… a man,” Finn began, fiddling with his spoon. Rey listened carefully, sipping on her stew as he spoke. “He lives down the main road, even farther away from town than we are. There’s a lake over there, and he has a cottage beside it. Keeps to himself, but he drops in on occasion, but only when Hux is out. He… he helps with the garden. Got a real green thumb. Taught me a lot so far.” 

“It’s nice to know there’s someone else out here,” Rey said. There was something that sparkled in Finn’s eyes when he spoke, as if he admired this person more than anything. She’d seen the same sparkle before: in Rose’s eye when she spoke of her sister, in the way Jessika hid her giggles behind her hands whenever they spoke of the young clergyman she fancied. The curious part of Rey wanted to push further and learn more about the mysterious garden master living alone in a country cottage but she stopped herself. It was only her first day and she didn’t want Finn to think of her as nosy. “Do you get much trouble out here?”

“Trouble?”

“Thieves, I suppose. My boarding school was plagued by thieves. They’d take anything from anyone. Once someone took four bushels of apples we were planning to bake into pies,” Rey said through a mouthful of beef. She was still upset they never got to taste that fruit, in a pie or otherwise. Most of the girls themselves were former pickpockets plucked from the street by the clergy before they began to sell themselves to get by. Just on the journey out to the manor, Rey had nearly had her purse pulled from her belt when they stopped for air in one of the smaller towns bordering Jakku. A teenage boy had bumped into her shoulder to distract her in order to slip it away unseen. However, Rey had learned that trick before she knew it was even a trick. She’d twisted away and smacked the young man on the hand, scolding him before he ran off. Crime was simply a part of life, or so she thought. 

“No, not really out here. Occasionally you get travelers wanting to room for the night. Sometimes Mr. Hux lets them in but he makes me sit outside their room all night to make sure they don’t steal a vase,” Finn said, and his shoulders shuddered as if overcome by a sudden chill. He looked at her, their casual tone abandoned for something much more dire.“However, it’s best if you keep to the servants’ floor after dark.” 

“Of course,” Rey said, agreeing but not knowing entirely why. “I’m sure Mr. Hux doesn’t want us wandering around the house at night.” 

“It’s not Hux you have to worry about.” He shook his head but before she could inquire further, he stood up bowl in hand. “I’ll clean up if you’re done.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rey’s first week at Chandrila Manor was a lesson in perseverance. Her chores at school were always shared between the other girls. They would all take the laundry out together and chat while hanging it on the line. Instead, Rey hauled the thick Persian rugs from the highest floor down to the courtyard and silently beat them out by herself. Occasionally Finn would cross her path, pushing a wheelbarrow full of fresh soil or lugging a toolbox. He’d give her nod, or if they were lucky, a small conversation. Hux always seemed to sense them socializing and would appear in the doorway to glare at them until they returned to their tasks. Even with eyes on her back it felt impossibly lonely. 

Of course, Rey had been lonely before. 

She tried to remind herself of the time before the boarding school, before Rose -- before it all. She’d carried heavier loads then and went weeks without speaking to a single person. It was tough work, but it was in her bones. She’d get used to it again. 

Still, just because she was capable didn’t mean she enjoyed Hux popping up to inspect her work and shoo Finn away every chance he got. It didn’t appear that Hux had any real work to do at all. She’d seen him sit at a desk in one of the elaborate libraries and glare down at a ledger, but he rarely wrote anything at all. He never sent or received mail; none of them did. It was as if they were truly on the edge of the world ready to float away on the rolling hills of the countryside. 

On Saturday, Rey went about her chores as quickly as she could. Sundays were rest days and as soon as she was finished on Saturday her rest could begin. She raced through the hallways, dragging her dusting rag across every surface haphazardly. She was sure the master of the house wouldn’t mind. 

Rey had heard precious little out of Finn or Hux about the family the house belonged to. It was her understanding that there had been a series of deaths, but how she could not say. Finn mentioned the Mistress moving away at one point but quickly changed subjects when she had inquired further. It was a mystery, one that Rose would have been desperate to dig her teeth into. Rey knew from experience that these kinds of unknowns rarely amounted to anything interesting. It was always something dull that took too long to explain. Still, left alone with her thoughts and the large portraits in the foyer, her mind began to wander. 

She hopped down the stairs -- no need to watch her ladylike demeanor if there was no mistress or school teacher to scold her -- and loitered in the painting gallery. There were small name plates set into each frame engraved with the name of the subject. Rey had started to commit them to memory, devising a plot like Rose would have. Rose had been so good at weaving stories about anything: the cobbler next door to the school was a famous murderer who had repented and bought a small shop to keep, giving discounts to the poor girls in the neighborhood as penance. The nun who ran the reading classes had once been forced into an engagement and rather than live her life tied to a man she did not want, she gave herself to Jesus -- but was it happy ever after? -- for she met Sister Jane in the abbey and the two shared kisses in the alcoves of the school. 

Rey smiled to herself. She always thought Rose should pen her thoughts, but she was destined to live a life like Rey’s: a maid in a rich family’s house beating rugs and dusting empty shelves. Maybe when she was older, after saving up for a while, she could publish books. Rey hoped her friend never married. Married women never seem to have time for much of anything, much less writing fanciful tales of romance. 

The woman in the portrait was one of the people she thought about a lot. Most of the old dusty men looked so similar she could barely tell them apart. She had long wavy dark hair with a delicate mouth and soft watchful eyes. Rey squinted at the small lettering in the metal.

_Padmé Amidala_

She was beautiful and regal, but there was a pain in her eyes. Rey struggled to come up with story, something bittersweet and tragic but drew a blank. Suddenly it felt rude to try to piece together a fictional trauma for her to experience. It seemed that Lady Amidala had been through quite enough. 

Rey moved on, trying to pick one of the happier portraits but instead felt her eyes drawn to the centerpiece of the foyer. The heavy golden frame dwarfed the other pictures and had a small table in front of it with a few priceless vases arranged on it. The man was the youngest subject painted, pale skinned and dark haired. Rey could see parts of the man in the other portraits. Eyes from one woman, a nose from another. An heir, the only heir, it seemed. A vase was blocking the nameplate at the bottom of the frame and she moved the porcelain to expose it. Instead of letters she found a thousand small scratches as if someone had taken a knife to the metal and carved the name out. Her skin tingled with goose pimples and she quickly set the vase back in place turning around expecting Hux to be watching her from the staircase and inquiring what she why she was loitering about. 

But no one was there.

* * *

There were not a lot of distractions at the Chandrila Manor so Rey threw herself into the only other task left to do that didn’t involve being in the foyer: dinner. There still wasn’t a lot to work with, but she had drafted a list of items for Hux to purchase the next time he went to town. He seemed extremely peeved at her request but she bet he’d change his tune when there was something else to eat other than Finn’s Beef Water. While cooking wasn’t her favorite task, she felt a bit safer from watchful eyes in the kitchen. The servants’ quarters had a calm, cozy feeling to them that the rest of the house lacked. Finn stepped in, having returned from serving Hux’s his personal bowl of stew in his room (the man wouldn’t dare lower himself to eat with them), just as she finished setting the table. 

“How does your stew smell better than mine?” Finn smiled, quickly taking his seat at the table. Rey joined him, grateful to eat something that tasted a bit like home. It was odd to think of the boarding school as home but she had spent so many years there it might as well be. 

“It’s just garlic,” Rey confessed. It wasn’t much more than Finn’s, but with a few tricks she learned. 

“Well, it’s a nice change. Thank you for cooking and don’t worry about the morning, I’ll do breakfast.” 

Rey was grateful the entire chore of cooking hadn’t been completely thrown onto her shoulders. Also, Hux probably had a very specific way he wanted his eggs and Finn wanted to spare her the trouble. Rey paused for a moment, eyeing her dinner companion. 

“How long have you worked here, Finn?” Rey asked, trying to keep her tone light. 

“About three years.” 

“Have you ever met the family?” 

“The Solos? No, no. They were all gone before I got here.” 

“Gone?” 

“Gone.” 

Rey frowned. He was more interested in his stew than sharing any information. She’d have to be a little more forward. 

“Do you know who is in the portrait?” 

“Their names are on the frames.” 

“Not this one.” 

Finn stopped and met her eye. 

“The one in the middle,” Rey pushed, holding his gaze. “His name was scratched out. Did you ever learn what it was?” 

Finn looked at her for a moment, his warm eyes suddenly closed off. 

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I was planning on posting every Tuesday but I forgot just how short this second chapter is so I'll be posting Chapter 3 this Friday and then continuing on Tuesdays after that.


	3. Chapter 3

Rey sat at the small desk in her room, staring at the blank page spread out before her. Her candle’s small flame twitched and danced throwing shadows over the empty whiteness as if trying to write the words itself. She didn’t want to write to Rose, she wanted to talk to her. Rey always thought she conveyed herself better through faces and gestures better than just words. Written words had no tone, no hidden meaning. Sure, the men and women at school had tried to teach her how to read between the lines but it always looked like empty space to her. Words were words, and unless accompanied by a wink or a sharp glance, they meant exactly what they said. 

Rose spoke nearly exclusively in insinuations and elbow nudges and yet her letters always felt like her. Rey slumped back into her chair, throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling above her. What would she say? “Hello my dearest friend, I have been shipped off to the countryside with only a stuffy will executor and a groundskeeper who, while kind, is a horrid cook.” She could talk about the portraits; Rose would love to her about them. But Rey couldn’t do them justice with her words alone. 

She spent so much time agonizing over what to say, she didn’t realize she didn’t have anything to write with. Rey groaned, pushing away from the desk and carrying her candle to her bedside. Letters could wait until morning. 

Morning came and words did not. Rey instead took to her chores will newfound vigor. Tomorrow was Sunday, Finn and Rey’s day off. The faster she completed her chores today the quicker she got to rest. Rey bounced through the halls, haphazardly running her duster over every surface. She saved the east wing of the second floor for last. Hux’s room was in that hall and she didn’t have an overwhelming desire to speak with him. However, after dusting every vase, shelf, nook, and cranny she had run out of chores to do. Hux would know if she skipped the corridor if she went straight to her room. 

She peered outside. It was early afternoon. Finn was moving a wheelbarrow through the grounds below, the load burdened with blue and purple flowers. 

_Be brave, Rey. One more hall then you can sit outside and talk with Finn. _

She took a breath and ventured off to the hallway. 

Rey was unsure why Mr. Hux chose this wing, of all places, to live in. It must have been an older part of the house because it was drafty and the boards creaked no matter how much weight you put on them. Rey was constantly washing grimy fog off the corridor windows that accumulated on them so easily. Unless Hux was rubbing his face against them all day, she hadn’t a clue how they got so dirty. 

Still, she went through the hall, scrubbing at the windows as best she could. Her eyes glanced at the door at the end of the corridor. She had washed the bedding in the other rooms earlier in the week but she didn’t remember going into that room. Rey stepped closer, noticing the wood used to make the door was darker than the rest of the hall. A detail that she was sure would bother Hux, or any wealthy owner of the house. Rey reached out, her fingers gripping the handle. The metal was cold beneath her hand and when she turned it, the knob clicked to a sharp halt, stopped by the lock. 

“Miss Niima.” Rey jumped at the voice, quickly turning around to see Hux poking his head out of his room. She should have curtseyed and addressed him but as frazzled as she was it never crossed her mind to. He crossed the corridor quickly, his eyes flickering from her to the door. “What are you doing?”

“I- I’ve never cleaned that room,” she stuttered, the chill of the handle still lingering on the skin of her fingers. “...sir.” 

“Don’t worry about that room, it’s empty,” he said quickly, as if speaking the words faster would make them sound truer. Rey could feel her childish curiosity prodding her to inquire further. All the rooms were empty, what was so special about this one?

“But it’s locked.” 

“Yes.” He slid a hand through his hair as if any hair could possibly spring out of place from the thick paste of product he laid on it. 

“Why lock an empty room?” 

Hux’s brow furrowed, his thin red mustache trembling. “That is none of your business.” 

“I’m sorry Mr. Hux, you are correct.” Rey quickly dipped into a curtsey, throwing him a forced smile. “It is none of my business.”

* * *

When evening fell Rey already had hot soup on the table when Finn came in from the yard. 

“Oh, did you make this?” Finn asked, looking into a bowl. 

“I did,” Rey smiled, standing next to the table with her hands folded in front of her skirts. 

“It smells great!” Finn took a seat at the table, throwing off his work gloves and grabbing a spoon to dig in. In truth, it was the same ingredients he had to work with for his… less than stellar stew. However, Rey had cooked some onions and found some garlic of questionable age, and that was all anyone needed to make anything at the very least palatable . 

“Do you like it?” Rey asked, slowly leaning across the tables on her elbows. 

“It’s delicious!” Finn said through a mouthful of soup before looking at her through a narrowed gaze. “Why are you being so… smiley?” 

“Hm? I’m simply enjoying doing a kindness for a friend.” 

“Uh huh… is there anything else?” 

Rey couldn’t hold back the question. She reached over the table, laying her hand on top of Finn’s, and put on her sweetest smile. “What’s in the locked room on the second floor?” 

“I knew it! I knew you were fishing for something!” Finn said, tossing his spoon into the bowl. “This is manipulation soup.” 

“No, it’s… persuasion soup.”

“Same thing!” Finn said.

“No, manipulation has an intent to be cruel. I have no such intention.” Rey averted her eyes to the kitchen wall, admiring a chip in the rock. 

“Just a hunger for secrets?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” She smiled. 

Finn sighed, sitting back in his chair and giving her a hard look. 

“Is it a dead body?” Rey leaned across the table, her curiosity dying to be quenched. 

“What?!” Finn was horrified. 

“Hux’s long lost wife he keeps locked up?’

“Rey-” 

“Or is it the entire Organa fortune in gold bars?!”

“Rey! Stop!” Finn said, slapping a hand on the table. Rey released his wrist and sank down onto a stool. 

“My apologies, Finn. I was just curious,” Rey said, feeling a tad guilty. She didn’t want to push her friend too far, especially since it was most likely that the room held nothing but dust that she did not wish to clean up. “I won’t push you any further.” 

“Thank you,” Finn said with a nod. He took a breath before continuing his soup. Rey finally started her own dinner, quietly sipping from her spoon. After a long pause, Finn spoke again. “You know I’d tell you if I could.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Forget it, I’ve already said too much.” 

Rey felt a chill run up her spine as Finn finished off his dinner and retreated to his room. 

There was definitely more there than just dust.

* * *

Rey took great pleasure in waking up at the crack of dawn, as per usual, and then shoving her face down into her pillow to sleep in. 

When Rey finally woke again, it was well into the afternoon. The air was warm and she could hear Finn working in the yard outside. The man was mad. He usually spent his weekends in the garden shed instead of his room. Finn really was all work and no play. She laid in bed for a moment listening to the tinny sound of the shed door slap against its frame before finally pulling her body to sit up. She could have stayed in bed the entire day if she hadn’t remembered the letter she had promised to write to Rose. She sighed. Rose deserved to hear from her but she’d have to find a pencil somewhere. Rey slipped out of bed and slowly went about pulling on a dress and stockings. Rey looked at the pile of hair pins beside her bed and cringed. She had no desire to shove them against her scalp today and decided to leave her hair loose around her shoulders. Afterall, in a house this large one single errand to a room couldn’t possibly put her in the same space as Hux or Finn. It was simple math.

Rey stood up, ready to grab her shoes and venture off to an office for something to write with when she stopped. 

On her desk, beside her forgotten letter, was a pen. She blinked, her body frozen half bent over, her fingers still reaching for the laces on the floor. She was positive there hadn’t been a single thing to write with in her room when she went to sleep, and even if there had been it wouldn’t have been _this_ pen. It had a thick wooden body with delicate engravings weaving across the grain. The tip was metal, also covered in its own etchings. Expensive, not something you’d usually find in any servants’ quarters.

Rey moved to her desk, her fingers reaching out and brushing across the intricate designs. Her attention was snagged yet again, this time by her empty letter to Rose which now, did not appear to be so empty. 

The paper she had left blank had a single sentence on it in a hand that was definitely not her own. It was precise, with enough careful curves and flourishes to make it an art piece and not just words on a page. The work of a person who had time to dedicate to learning such a craft, who didn’t work all day like Rey or Finn. Rey scrambled through her dress pocket, pulling out the worn list of chores Hux had given her the first day. She unfolded the paper and laid it out beside the mystery writing, comparing the lettering. 

The new words were large, every letter matching. No dribbles of ink, no smears from hands touching wet words. Hux’s letters didn’t seem to want to touch each other, the letters smaller and more compact. 

Not a match. 

Rey picked up the clean paper. There were no wrinkles in the paper as if someone had picked it up. It was exactly how she left it, only now with words and pen beside it. At the top of the paper, aligned in the center as if the title of a book, was a single sentence. 

_Don’t be afraid._

Rey gripped the paper tightly in her hands and marched straight out of her room, down the hall, through the kitchen and out of the back door. She was crossing the grass before she realized she had left her shoes back in her room. Her eyes scanned the yard and, finding it empty, she started for the shed. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the handle and violently swung it open. 

“Finn what is th-” Rey froze, holding her paper up in the air. Finn was in the shed, but she was not alone. Another man was with him, all tan skin and dark curls, and they both were shirtless. Their arms were tangled around one another. Rey gasped, a blush dying her neck even before she managed to quickly turn away. She muttered a “sorry” and started for the kitchen door, her eyes planted firmly on the grass below her. She could hear Finn calling her name but she was too mortified to stop. Her cheeks were on fire as she slipped through the kitchen and hallway and slammed the door to her room closed behind her. 

She slumped against the door frame, exhausted. She was going to have to speak to Finn eventually, but something told her neither of them were up to it yet. Rey was inclined to think her mystery note was from the man in the shed, but he seemed otherwise… occupied. 

Rey looked at the note again, the paper crinkled from her grip. She smoothed it out as best she could and read the words again. _Don’t be afraid._ The sentence had the exact opposite effect than it intended. She only had more questions and more worries. The phrase usually indicated something fearsome was incoming. Rey shoved her chair against the wall and, carefully, stood on top of it. Resting her cheek on the cold stone wall, she looked out of the window of her room, expecting to see boot prints in the mud or a figure hiding behind a tree like in one of Rose’s novels. There was nothing. Just sunshine and a duck waddling towards the pond. And Rey was certain, no matter how well bred the ones at Chandrila Mansion were, ducks could not write. 

She looked over at the phantom pen. Rey bit her lip, considering it for a moment before walking to it. She gathered her skirts, sat down at her desk, and flattened the paper out. The pen was heavy in her hand, the carvings pressing against her skin leaving an impression against her fingers. She paused for a moment. Either this would work or she was starting to lose it. Both seemed like entirely plausible outcomes. She let out a slow, low exhale before finally pressing ink to paper.

_Who are you?_

Rey waited a moment, watching the simple piece of paper as if more words would suddenly bleed into existence. She watched closely, before abruptly dropping the pen back down on the table. She supposed the mystery writer couldn’t write a response if she was holding the pen. Rey balled her hands in her skirts, watching the desktop closely and then realized they couldn’t write if she was sitting in the way. She stood up and paced up and down the length of her room, her eyes rarely leaving the paper.

Then she had a thought -- she wouldn’t want to write anything with someone pacing around and peering over her shoulder, so instead she stepped out into the hallway. She left the door open for a moment before deciding it was best to close it. However, that could not sate her curiosity and she kept opening it every few seconds to check in on her highly awaited response. 

As time ticked by, Rey’s excitement and curiosity began to wane. She wandered around the kitchen, looking out the windows. Perhaps there was a stranger at Chandrila Manor who had snuck into her room. She went back every few minutes, checking the paper in vain. She put tea on the stove and began to wonder if she had picked up some paper from Rose’s things before she left that the girl had already written on. 

After her tea, she went to her room again. She opened the door just enough to look inside, still searching for letters on the page. 

“Rey?” She jumped, slamming the door closed and turning to face Finn who had snuck up on her in the hallway. He had his shirt back on, thank goodness, but a tense expression on his face. Rey, caught up in her paper escapade, suddenly remembered exactly what she had seen Finn doing in the shed and quickly looked at the floor, watching a toe poke through a rip in her stockings she’d earned from tromping around the yards without any shoes. 

“I won’t tell Hux, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Rey blurted out, brushing her hair behind her ear, suddenly wishing she had finished dressing before tearing through the grounds, or pacing around the kitchen. If her teachers ever discovered her behavior today they’d be red with shame. A proper maid does not lounge around waiting for ducks to write back with loose hair and barefeet. She peered up to see Finn looking a bit pained and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

“I didn’t think you would,” he admitted. Rey chewed on her lower lip. His trust in her was rooted deeper than any tree, and she reminded herself to return the favor. They both could use a confidant, even though it appeared as Finn already had one. “But I thought a better introduction could be arranged.” 

Rey met his gaze with a small smile. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” 

“Great,” Finn half spoke, half laughed from relief. He took a step back, awkwardly motioning for her to follow. She stepped into the kitchen where the man from the shed was sitting at the table. He had on a white worker’s shirt that opened at his chest showing off the tanned skin of his neck. He fiddled with a straw hat clasped in his hands and gave her a small, shy smile as she entered. He had dark eyes and reached up to push dark curls off his forehead. He stood, giving her a bow. 

“My apologies, Miss Niima, I do not think that was the introduction either Finn or I were hoping for.” Rey couldn’t help but smile at him. He had an ease about him, a lazy warmness like a brook under the hot summer sun. 

“No need, Mr-” Rey began, quickly looking to Finn for the gentleman’s name. 

“Dameron,” Finn said. Rey raised an eyebrow. The two shared a rather uncommon last name, and they certainly were not brothers. It seemed Finn had a secret of his own. 

“Mr. Dameron,” Rey repeated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard much about you.” 

“All good things I hope. And please, call me Poe,” he said, adding a wink at the end. She was beginning to understand why Finn was so fascinated with the man who lived by the lake. 

“We’ve made you tea,” Finn said, passing between them to the stove where a kettle was brewing. Finn quickly poured each of them a cup, his fingers brushing Poe’s as he handed it over.

“Thank you,” Rey said, thankful for the beverage. After sleeping most of the day away, the last thing she had eaten was the stew for dinner the night before. It warmed her belly and brought a calmness over her that was very welcomed. 

“Did you have something to show me?” Finn said, dropping one of Hux’s coveted sugar cubes into Poe’s drink. 

“Hm?” Rey questioned before remembering exactly why she had caught Poe and Finn in the middle of a rather private moment. It was pretty apparent by now that Finn and Poe had no interest sneaking into her room to leave a mysterious note on her desk, they had other thoughts on their mind. Another blush rose to her cheeks at the memory of them and Rey quickly waved a hand, banishing the thought from her mind. “It was nothing important.” 

“Not important enough to come running outside shoeless?” Poe said with a sharp glance to her feet. Rey quickly threw her skirt over her feet, hiding her ruined stockings from view. 

“Just questions about the house,” Rey said, trying to wave the conversation away.

“I can answer any questions you have,” Poe said, sipping from his cup. “I was acquainted with Leia Organa before her passing, rest her soul.” 

Rey’s memory flashed back to one of the portraits in the foyer. A woman with fierce dark eyes and thick graying hair pulled back from her face with metal clips. “Was she the mistress of the house?” 

“She was the _master_,” Poe said, relishing in the word. “Even if Mr. Solo had stuck around he wouldn’t have had much say in what happened here. This was Lady Organa’s territory.” 

“If she was a Lady, then he was he not a Lord?” Rey asked. The frames didn’t have titles, but she couldn’t imagine a situation where a married couple had such wildly differing stations. 

“Han could never pass as a Lord. The family didn’t enjoy her marrying down but they didn’t have much of a choice. Leia was not one to be tamed, and after discovering she was the heir to not one but two fortunes- she had enough money that people stopped asking about it.” Poe grinned wildly, taking too much joy in sharing the information, but who could blame him? He lived alone in a cottage and the only other people that lived nearby were Finn, who had probably already been told this story, and Hux, who no one wanted to speak to. 

“Two fortunes?” 

“Two.” Poe held up two fingers. “The Organa fortune, of course. Her parents died when she was young and she was already well in control of it when her true blood came out. She was no Organa at all -- she was a Skywalker.” 

Rey gasped, a hand slamming down on the table and nearly spilling their afternoon tea. 

“I know a Skywalker. He was a priest that would stop by my school to give lessons. I didn’t think he had a single coin to his name,” Rey said, all the information coming out in a rush. Mr. Skywalker had been a regular face around the Jakku School for Girls. He was odd, shaggy, but often had some hard candy in his pockets. Rey didn’t think he was anyone beyond a poor clergyman.

“He doesn’t. He refused his inheritance, saying whatever his father touched was too filthy for even God to cleanse.” Poe was practically performing for her now, his voice lowering to mock Skywalker’s tone. “Leia was the only one left, and while the Organas were good people, it’s hard to say that any large sum of money is ever clean. Leia did her best. She donated half of it to schools and other charities across England.”

Rey thought about the portrait at the center of the foyer, the young gentleman with the dark, swept hair and intense eyes, whose name had been scratched out and lost. 

“Who owns the Manor now?” Rey only now realized she had scooted to the edge of her seat, leaning towards Poe as he spoke. 

“Well, that’s where it gets tricky,” he said. He looked to Finn, who seemed uninterested in the entire conversation. Finn fiddled with the kettle before taking it back to the stove. Either he had heard the story too many times, or he didn’t like what came next. Poe looked back at Rey, his eyes flashing. “Leia Organa and Han Solo had only one child, a son. A sweet kid, from what I’ve heard. Bright. But, like most sweet kids, he grew up into something cold and cruel. Decided he didn’t want to be a Solo or an Organa anymore. He shed the name and gave himself a new one. Left in the middle of the night, but not before stabbing his dear father in this very--” 

“Poe,” Finn snapped, clearly irritated by Poe’s colorful rendition of the past. “Hux will be back soon.” 

“Mr. Dameron is right,” Poe said, giving Finn a wink that was not received warmly. “It was a pleasure.” 

Poe took Rey’s hand with a great flourish, and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Au revoir, Mademoiselle.” Poe grabbed his hat from the table and started for the door. He paused beside Finn, his hand starting forward as if to embrace him. Finn frowned and Poe quickly took back his hand and left with a final nod. There was a long moment of silence as Finn watched Poe retreat across the yard through the small window set in the door before Rey finally spoke.

“He seems nice.” Rey asked looking over to Finn. 

“Yes…” Finn trailed off, not really hearing her words. Rey chewed on her lip for a moment, before deciding it was best to head back to her room. She stood, and started for the hallway. “Rey, if you could, please don’t tell--” 

“Hux,” Rey said, finishing his sentence. Perhaps his trust in her from before was failing him. She looked at him and caught the fear in his eyes. Who knew what Hux would do if he found out Finn was embracing men in the garden shed. She couldn’t think less of him for double-checking. “Don’t worry Finn, I wasn’t planning on it. We don’t exactly have long chats over sandwiches.” 

Finn smiled. “Are you certain? I’m sure he has some thrilling stories.” 

Rey snorted loudly. She tried to control her smile as she straightened her spine as far as it would go and wrinkled her nose at Finn. “Mr Dameron, you look a dreadful mess, have I told you when I saved the Solos three whole pence?”

Finn laughed, copying her Hux impression narrowing his eyes on her as if inspecting every inch of her. “I use only the finest oils to smear my hair down, not that a woman of _your_ station would know of such things, Miss Niima.” 

They both erupted into laughter, leaning against the kitchen table. Rey held her stomach as cramps spread across her abdomen. She struggled to her feet, stifling a chuckle and holding a finger over her upper lip to mimic the atrociously thin mustache he insisted on sporting. Rey pulled back a chair and stepped onto its seat , towering over the kitchen with her faux facial hair. She opened her mouth ready to spit out another insult in Hux’s stuffy accent when the door to the kitchen swung open. 

Mr. Hux stood on the threshold, a thin black book in his hand. A man in a dark coat stood behind him but quickly lowered his hat and left towards the front of the manor. Hux looked between the two of them, his watery blue eyes focusing on Rey’s flushed cheeks and mock facial hair. Rey snapped her hand to her side, eyes looking everywhere but the red haired man in the doorway. Finn had adopted a similar strategy of kicking at a crack in the floor with the toe of his boot. 

“Evening,” Hux said and cleared his throat. Finn held a hand out, and Rey quickly stepped down to the floor. She could feel his eyes burning through her as she moved, and he raised an eyebrow at Rey’s shoeless feet and unruly hair. “Miss Niima, perhaps you should retire to your room until you’re fully dressed for dinner.” 

Rey felt her entire face burn and she tried to hide her torn stocking behind her petticoat as she curtsied. There was nothing she could do to hide her hair hanging around her shoulders, or the fact she’d been standing on a chair like a child. 

“Yes, Mr. Hux.” She glanced at Finn who shared an equally embarrassed expression before making her escape down the hallway. 

Rey slumped across her bed, hiding her face in her hands. She hoped that Hux had not heard their laughter from outside but it was a wasteful wish. It was a bad idea to turn her employer against her, but she had enjoyed talking with Finn and Poe so much. At least he brought fresh food back to the Manor, so maybe dinner would be something worth writing home about. Writing -- the letter! Rey snapped up from her blankets and rushed over to her desk, peering down at the paper.

_My name is Ben. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Updates return to Tuesdays next week.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben. 

It had been just a word before but now it held an unlimited well of wonder and possibility. Rey laid awake under her sheets, running her fingers over the ink on the page. It was real, yet the writer did not seem to be. 

There were a million different thoughts cluttering her mind and sleep had been elbowed completely out of her head. She thought of a Ben she’d known while at school. A young boy, younger than herself, who would walk along the fence and wink at the girls in the schoolyard hoping to get a coin or a piece of bread for his troubles. He hung around for about a year and then disappeared. Was this the same Ben? Rey didn’t think so. They were hours away from the school, and she highly doubted that Ben could write his own name. Yet, Rose’s voice was at her ear whispering the possibilities. 

Ben had been kidnapped and sold to the countryside only to run away and work as an errand boy at the Manor. Only one night he saw Hux sucking a young woman’s blood and was murdered to keep the man’s dark hunger a secret! 

Seemed a bit farfetched, what young woman would get that close to Hux?

Maybe it was a farmer, from the time before the manor was even built. The ghost of a plowman who tilled the fields centuries ago. Or maybe an old nobleman who died in his bed one hundred years prior. Or perhaps a young girl who shorn her hair and lived in breeches to make life a little more bearable out in the wild countryside. Or perhaps it was an angel and Ben was short for Benevolent. 

Rey skipped dinner that night. She fell asleep clinging to the paper, her dreams rife with lives unlived and stories yet to be told.

* * *

The next day Rey went quietly about her work. She dragged her broom across the stairs, slowly making her way towards the second floor library. 

The room was large, filled with shelves and desks to read at. It paled every other library she’d ever been in. The school’s collection of books have been a single row of sad looking volumes shoved in a corner of the Mother Superior’s office and no one would voluntarily go there. 

Looking over her shoulder, she made her way past each shelf, half-heartedly running a duster across the edges as her eyes scanned the spines of the volumes. There had to be a few books covering the history of the land somewhere. She picked a few books up over the history of the county, and another with a history of land deeds and tenant taxes. Anything that might hint at a Benjamin once living, or even visiting, Chandrila Manor or the soil it stood upon. 

She took a seat at a desk and began to pour over the records. There weren’t nearly as many Bens as she thought there would be. There was a Benedict who lived at the edge of the country nearly an hour out who died in debt twenty years ago and a Ben who appeared to have been briefly employed on a farm close to the foundations of Chandrila Manor twenty years ago but left after marrying a French woman. Other than that there was a lot of nothing. 

She scoured the shelves again, less choosy about the information the volumes might contain. Any records the library held, she examined and she didn’t appear to be any closer to her goal. She did find description of a Ben Kenobi in a history of war. The man had been a Colonel, and in the peaceful years had visited Chandrila Manor at the request of Leia Organa. The details were vague and the next paragraph jumped into his work with the church and then his death in London. It didn’t seem he spent much time in the manor, and yet she thought she remembered a portrait of a thin man with a white beard and medals across his chest. Was he that important to Leia to have a portrait? And could a person who died in a different city linger around a house they visited merely once? 

Rey slouched in her chair. She rubbed her eyes, trying to ease the strain from reading such tiny lettering. 

Perhaps Kenobi was a distant relative? That would give him a tie to Leia and the manor.

Rich families always kept records of their bloodlines, Rey knew that much. In the brief time it took to bring him clean linens, she’d already heard Hux drone on about some great-uncle of his who was a great war hero or so he said. The Solos were bound to have a whole shelf full of aunts and cousins who all did impressive things and spent great sums of money. 

After passing chronicles of wars and a few biographies, she happened upon the treasure she sought.

_A History of Organas, Skywalker Lineage_, and _Solos_. She pulled each volume out and laid them out on her cluttered desk. The first two were thick books with gold detailing on the covers and pages dusty with age. The last book was thin, almost a pamphlet rather than a book, and a lot simpler. She swung open the book of Organas, flipping quickly to the latest page where Leia Organa was listed. There was no connection to any Kenobis. It had some grandparents and then on the last page a line was drawn between Leia and her late husband, Han Solo, but the name beneath them both had been scribbled out. Rey ran her fingers over the page as if the long dried ink could be washed away. She sighed, closing it and opening the Skywalker book. This volume was shorter. Luke was listed, along with his profession, but the line seemed to stop after Leia’s grandmother. Odd. One would think a family of great fortune would have more ancestors listed. The Amidala side branched out into many different directions filling more than half the book. Rey thought if should have been labeled the Amidala Lineage if it was going to be about them. The Skywalkers were kept to a single section and only held four generations starting with a Shmi Skywalker (whose parents were listed as unknowns) and ending with Leia and Han’s child marred by the same damage as the volume: scratched out with a rough hand. 

Curious, Rey grabbed the Solo pamphlet and pulled it open to find only a single family tree. Han with Leia, and then the rest of the paper was torn out completely. 

The familiar click of Hux’s boots against hardwood stole her attention. She looked up, quickly moving in front of the desk to hide the stack of books behind her skirts. 

“Afternoon, Miss Niima,” Hux said, attempting a smile. 

“Afternoon, Mr. Hux,” Rey replied, giving the customary curtsey. Except he didn’t move on. Hux usually only spoke to her because they happened to be caught in the same area at the same time and he simply had to point out the shelf she had missed when dusting. Truth be told, Rey thought he just enjoyed having someone curtsey to him. Probably made him feel important. Yet he lingered in the doorway, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his coat. A coat, that by the look of it, seemed brand new. A dark black velvet with bronze buttons. The silence grew between them. “Do you need something, Mr. Hux?” 

“Ah yes, could you bring some tea up to my room?” His sharp face glistened with sweat. 

“Yes, sir. Of course.” 

Another deafening pause. 

“Yes, well, thank you.” He left quickly, without a nod or even allowing time for Rey to give another unearned curtsey. She quickly grabbed the family volumes she’d gathered and ventured downstairs to the kitchen. 

Finn was at the table enjoying his own cup of tea. 

“Hux wants tea.” Rey said, placing the books on the table. Finn sighed, pushing off the chair and pulling out the nice china from the shelves. Only Hux was allowed to use the nice dishes. The way he talked, the dead of the mansion would rise and slap the cups out of their grubby working hands if they ever dared use them which, considering her mystery pen pal, seemed possible. Rey chewed on her lip. She hadn’t replied to the message yet. She hoped to do a bit more research beforehand. “Finn, who is Colonel Kenobi??” 

“An old, dead man. Served in a few wars,” he mumbled, placing a saucer on the serving platter. “Why?” 

Rey hesitated. There was far too much to explain. “I was wondering about his portrait. Is he kin to any of the Organas?” 

“Ah, yes. It’s a good portrait, very regal. A friend of the family, I believe. Helped Leia out in his last few years. People say it was an unwanted child or something inflammatory like that. Whatever it was, it must have been important and she must have been very grateful,” Finn said, swinging the spoon around in his hand as he spoke before placing it on the tray. “I once heard he haunts the officer’s academy in London where he died.”

Rey sagged. Her ghost was off haunting a completely different building. Finn’s word may not be law, but it felt as if she had hit a dead end. If she learned anything from Rose, it was that if a soul was stuck somewhere it had a very strong tie to its prison. A nun haunting a church. An axe killer haunting a field where he buried his victims- stories like that. So why would a man who visited the manor a single time in his life, however great of a deed he may have done here, choose to linger and then write to her? If he earned a portrait in the foyer then perhaps the Skywalkers had simply collected too many. Rey had no portraits to her name, muchless one of a man she only met once. 

A thought crossed her mind. 

“What about the center portrait -- the one that’s all scratched out?” Rey asked.

“That’s Leia and Han’s son -- the heir to all this.” He motioned weakly to the drab surroundings of the kitchen. 

“Where is he now?”

“No one really knows,” Finn said with a shrug. “He ran off years ago and could be dead as far as we know. We’re supposed to keep the Manor in good condition for his return, but I doubt he’ll be returning anytime soon.” 

The empty house suddenly made sense, but why not hire someone to go out and find the heir and drag him home? Why simply piddle away pennies waiting for his grand entrance that may never come?

Wealthy families were so eccentric. 

“Did you ever meet him?” 

“No…” Finn’s voice moved up as if uncertain with his answer. Rey leaned further across the table as if being closer would help her read his mind. 

“Did Poe?” 

“I think he did -- Rey, I really don’t know much. I just pull the weeds,” Finn said, trying to wiggle out of the conversation. 

“I only have a few more questions!” Rey said, like a child begging for a piece of candy. 

“You get one.” 

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know, I never found that out,” Finn paused, his eyes looking at her cautiously. “I did hear Poe use one of his old nicknames though.” 

“Nickname? What was it?” Rey said, nearly on top of the kitchen table in her earnestness. Could it be her Ben?

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I won’t tell anyone, Finn.”

“That’s because there’s no one here to tell.”

“Even better.” 

Finn sighed, completely run down by her constant picking. “Poe once called him Kylo.” 

“Kylo…” Rey said, trying out the name on her tongue. 

“Sounds a bit silly, if you ask me,” Finn said, sneering as he picked up the tea tray. “A bit dramatic, isn’t it?” 

Finn left to go upstairs and Rey took her stolen volumes to her room. She peered at the letter for a few long moments before finally picking up the pen. Maybe, despite Rose’s rules for haunting, her pen pal was Colonel Ben Kenobi. She thought it best not to bombard her new friend with too many questions. 

_My name is Rey._

She set the pen down and started for the door only to stop half way out of her chair when she heard the scratching of a point against parchment. She turned and watched the pen swirl across the page entirely by itself.

_I know._

Rey sat frozen, fingers gripping the back of the chair and eyes glued to the parchment. Her pen had moved entirely of its own will, flying across the paper before settling back down as if being put back by a human hand. She felt the blood leave her face.

It was one thing to receive mysterious notes, but watching an object move on its own was another matter entirely. 

She let out a slow breath, hyper aware of all of her movements. If the pen had moved, then the writer was here, right? A soul could not move things from a different room, but Rey knew nothing about the afterlife or souls. This was not something taught in her boarding school and Rose’s stories dealt less with the implications of ghosts and more with the seduction and romanticization of them. 

Rey took in a deep breath, her eyes scanning the corners of her vision looking for movement. 

“Are you… here with me?” she asked, her voice cracking. 

_Yes._

The pen paused, hovering over the page as if waiting for her to speak again. She swallowed hard.

“Oh. Well, first of all, welcome,” Rey said awkwardly, unsure if she should curtsey to a ghost or tear out of the room in terror. Would anyone believe her if she came running saying her pen was moving on its own. That Ben the Ghost was after her.

As if in reply to her words, the pen pitched forward like a bow. 

Her mouth fell open. It was a polite spirit. She nodded her head towards the pen. 

She was greeting a pen- a _pen_.

Rey paused. The situation was absolutely outrageous, more of a dream than reality. But if this was a dream then she needed to take her shot before she woke up. 

“Are you Ben Kenobi?” 

The pen drilled into the paper so hard she thought it might tear. 

_No._

“Oh… Do you live in the house?” Rey kicked herself, settling back into the chair. She got to ask a ghost any question and she asked if it was living in the house it was obviously haunting.

_Yes, on the second floor in the blue room._

Rey squinted at the words. She never thought the ghost would have its own room, but then again, there were plenty of empty rooms.

Seemed a shame a dead man got an upper floor bedroom while Finn and herself were still regulated to the cramped servants’ quarters. 

“I haven’t seen a blue room on the second floor,” she said. Every room on the second floor was decorated with thick, red tapestries. Anything blue amidst all the red linen she’d been laundering would have stuck out severely. 

_It’s behind the locked door. _

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rey blurted out. Was that why Hux was so curt about her leaving the door alone? Did he know something was being held inside? Rey’s head was spinning, her vision dizzy even from her seated position. Her hands gripped each other in her lap, cold sweat rubbing off on her skirts. “But you can still come and go, I assume?”

_Limitedly._

Rey paused for a moment, leaning on the desk and looking over the words scribbled by a phantom hand. This house wasn’t as empty as she first thought.

“How limited?” 

_At the beginning? Extremely. Now, around an hour a day if I rest._

Rey chewed on her lip. By the beginning he probably meant his death. How long had he been dead? How did spirits rest? How long ago was the “beginning”?

_“If it’s locked how are you here?” she asked. _

I save my strength and pass through the wall, but only part of myself and only for a short time. 

Rey squinted at the paper. There was still so much of the universe she did not understand, that no one must understand. They certainly didn’t teach anything relating to the habits of ghosts in the Jakku School for Girls. However, she did her best trying to understand him.

“So, it’s like you’re sick. You can leave but you’re weak and must return to your rooms,” she said slowly. “And you can’t ever leave the manor.”

_Yes._

She wondered how much energy it took to write to her now. Was this spirit, was Ben, using all of his strength to simply talk to her?

What else would he do? He seemed to have a mind and thoughts and if most of his time was spent locked in a room then it must be maddening. 

“That sounds lonely,” she said to the air around her. 

_It is._

Rey thought of the cathedral at school. Of sweeping its floor while everyone slept. Of walking the halls at night. She thought of the other girls receiving letters from their parents while she sat listening to them read aloud. Of the sleepless nights she spent listening to Rose snoring, stuck with only her thoughts. She thought of the long carriage ride to the manor, and her little cold room tucked away in the emptiness of the countryside. Of the quiet, cold pangs of loneliness.

Rey drew in a slow breath. 

“How long ago was the begin-” 

“Rey!” Finn called from outside her door. Rey quickly flipped the paper over, hiding all of Ben’s writing, before opening the door. Finn stood outside holding the tea tray looking less than ecstatic. “He wants you.” 

“Excuse me?”

“He wants _you_ to serve him tea.” Finn said, pushing the tray out for her to take. Rey’s stomach dropped. Mr. Hux never wanted her to do anything near him, much less serve him tea. She took the heavy tray from Finn, the cups rattling against the saucers as her hands trembled. “I don’t know what he’s on about, but he was very insistent I go fetch you.” 

Rey paused, looking back to her desk and the now hidden message. 

“Well, if that is what Mr. Hux wants, then that is what Mr. Hux will get.” Rey smiled. The man probably wanted to scold her for her behavior yesterday. Tangled hair, shoeless, and making a fool of herself. She’d been yelled at before; she’d survive it. Finn stepped aside and she swept through the hallway. She took the stairs two at a time, mindful of the tea that sloshed loudly in the floral pot. The quicker she got up, the quicker she could get back to her letter. 

If her visitor could only leave his room for a short period of time then she had a very limited window to get back to him. She still had a million questions on her tongue and could feel the resentment building her chest that Hux was taking her away from answers. 

She had her hand raised to knock on the door when it swung open. Immediately Rey was assaulted by perfume. It was sickly sweet and immediately clung to the back of her throat. Rey stifled a cough, blinking through the discomfort to see Mr. Hux in the doorway. His hair looked extra greasy, as if he’d applied more since she’d seen him in the library. Rey, as carefully as she could, dipped into a curtsey. 

“Tea, sir?” she said, her voice strained. 

“Please, set it down over there.” Hux swept out of the way to point to a small round table at the other side of the room. Rey forced a smile and took a breath before pressing forward. 

Truth be told, she’d never been in Hux’s room before. He didn’t like dirty peasants touching his things and often brought his laundry out to be done instead of letting Rey take it herself. If he ever needed anything brought up he met her at the door and slammed it in her face once he’d snatched it from her hands. It suited her fine, less time spent in his presence was the greatest gift Armitage Hux could give.

It was a rather dull looking room, the same as all the other bedrooms on the floor: red curtains, red drapes around the large oak bed. A small table and chairs, a desk for writing. A bookshelf, and a rug. The man didn’t have much in the way of personal effects and the whole room felt very impersonal. Except for the horrid smell that lingered on everything, as if he had sprayed perfume on every surface. 

Rey set the tray down on the table, careful not to knock the lace cover off the surface. She turned back to Hux, waiting to be dismissed, but found the door to the hallway closed. Rey’s stomach dropped. He planned for this to be an extended scolding. 

“Please, sit,” Hux said, motioning to the chair behind her beside the tea. She didn’t want to sit. She knew the routine: they made you sit and then they walked around the chair to make themselves feel bigger and better while they laid into you. However she forced her body to comply. She sat with her spine as straight as a ruler, pressing her lips together to prepare for Hux’s speech. 

“Tea?” the man asked as he sat down across from her. Rey blinked. He was… smiling at her? She guessed it was a smile; it looked more like a grimace. They sat in silence for a moment before Rey realized she was supposed to respond. 

“I only brought one cup, sir,” she said. 

“Oh. Right.” 

Another silence stretched out and Rey grew worried. 

“If this is about yesterday Mr. Hux, I can assure you from here on out I will adhere to the conduct expected of my position.” The words came out in a rush but she couldn’t stand sitting in silence waiting for him to pick at her flaws. 

“Oh, well, it is about that,” Hux said, rising from his seat and walking over to his desk. He opened a small drawer. Inside she could see a small key hanging on a hook and a thin black book she often saw him holding. He pulled something from deep within the drawer and quickly shut it. Her heart was in her throat. Did he mean to rap her knuckles with a ruler as if she were an unruly schoolgirl? She swallowed hard, hiding her hands in her skirts as if that may prevent punishment. 

“I couldn’t help but notice the tear in your stocking and thought you could use a new pair.” Hux’s face was beet red as he shoved a small box into Rey’s hands. She froze, the gift in hand, and tried to figure out the best course of action. 

She didn’t exactly find it appropriate for Hux of all people to be giving her stockings. She’d say people would talk but there was hardly anyone around. Finn would think it odd if he knew. Would she be beholden to him? Would he… expect things of her? 

Rey felt her cheeks burn, the box suddenly stinging her fingers from the thought. 

“Go on, open it,” Hux said, waving his hand at her. 

“Mr. Hux-” 

“Please, call me Armitage.” 

Rey stood up abruptly, sending everything on the tea tray clattering against each other. Hux was standing far too close, but she used his proximity to shove the box against his chest. He looked surprised and she could only gawk at him for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get out of the situation that wasn’t completely rude. 

“I feel ill,” she blurted, grabbing her skirts out of the way and rushing towards the door. 

“Rey!”

She ignored his voice, throwing herself into the hallway where fresh air rolled over her in a cleansing wave. Rey didn’t stop until she reached her room and threw herself onto her blankets. She buried her face into her pillows, waiting for Hux to come knocking on her door but he never did. Thank God. 

When her pulse had slowed enough for rational thought to return, Rey looked to the paper she shared with Ben. Their conversation had been cut short and she still had so much to ask him. 

“Are you here?” she asked the air around her, her eyes scanning the room as if a man might appear at any moment. “Ben?” 

Nothing happened. She took the pen off the desk, holding it up as if to hand it to the spirit. 

“Hello?” 

She frowned as her greeting was left unanswered. He had said his time outside of the room was at a premium, he must have reached his limit. Still, she did not want to wait until tomorrow for answers. Perhaps if she wrote something down and passed it beneath his door? But his door was in the same hall as Hux and she had no desire to run into him again. 

“Rey?” Finn’s voice called from behind her door. Rey set her pen down, her hope of talking with Ben extinguished. 

“Coming!” she called, hiding Ben’s pen inside her desk before opening the door. Finn stood in the hall holding Hux’s pretty white box with an eyebrow raised. 

“I think this is for you?” he said. 

“I don’t want it,” Rey groaned, moving to slam the door. Finn caught the wood of the door, wedging his foot against the frame to keep it open. 

“Hey wait, what is all this about?” he asked. 

“It’s a gift,” she said curtly. 

“Yes?” 

“From Hux,” she finally admitted in a hush trying to pull her door closed again. 

“From _Armitage_ Hux?” Finn’s voice bellowed as his eyes grew wide. His curiosity was piqued and there would be no forgetting about this anytime soon. 

“God, I hope there aren’t more Huxs around.” 

“What is it?” he asked, his fingers drumming on the box. 

“Look for yourself!” Rey said, crossing her arms. Her face was already turning red before he even raised the lid. 

“Stockings?” he exclaimed. 

“Yes--” 

“They’re white -- oh my lord there’s lace all over them!” Finn said, lifting a single hose to inspect it further. Rey had not noticed all the little details and was now feeling even more humiliated than before. “Rey, oh my god there’s red garters.” 

“Finn!” she yelled, snatching the box from his hands. A stocking still dangled from his hands and she pulled that one from his grasp too shoving it inside the box and tossing the whole thing behind her under her bed. “Enough about the damn stockings!” 

“Language, Miss Niima,” he said, a devilish grin spread over his lips. “Wait until Poe hears about this.” 

Finn started down the hall to the kitchen and Rey ran after him. 

“Finn if you tell Poe anything I’ll--” she turned the corner into the kitchen only to see an already thoroughly enthralled Poe sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Tell me what?” he smiled. 

“Hux is here,” Finn hissed at him, but did not shove him out the door. He went straight to the cabinet, pulling out some bread and cheese for them to snack on. 

“Yes, and Hux seems to be occupied with other matters,” he rolled his eyes from Finn to Rey. 

“Stop it -- the both of you. It’s hard enough dealing with him. I don’t need you two going on about it,” Rey said, going straight to the plate Finn was putting together. She grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it in her mouth. 

“What did he want?” Poe asked hungrily, adjusting in his seat to look at her. 

“Tea,” she said through a mouth full of bread. 

“Oh, how boring,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I thought he’d at least ask for a kiss. Should have known the man was as boring in the bedroom as he was in every other room of the estate.” 

“Poe, he could hear you,” Finn said, setting the plate down. 

“Have you ever been with a man before, Rey?” Poe asked, brushing off Finn’s worry. Rey choked on her bread. Finn rushed over, beating on her back until she her throat was clear and she could finally glare at Poe through watery eyes. 

“_Excuse_ me?”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no,” he said, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. “Ever had any suitors?” 

“Poor housekeepers don’t have suitors Mr. Dameron,” she said, unamused with the man’s inquisitive energy. 

“Well, perhaps not prudish ones.” 

“Poe!” Finn snapped. Rey could only look on, stunned. She felt as if she had been slapped. What right had Poe Dameron, a no one from by the lake, have to come here and turn his nose into the air and call her prudish? She had quite enough of men today. Finn and Poe were having a hushed argument she did not listen to. She simply took a breath and calmly announced her departure to the room.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I feel a bit under the weather. I’ll be in my room for the rest of the night.” She curtsied. Finn was apologizing but she ignored him, retreating to her own space and latching the door. 

She bit her lip, her eyes feeling warm. She leaned against her closed door until her heart calmed within her chest. It was easy for a man to call any woman prudish; they were judged on different scales. The boarding school had drilled into her mind the idea, over and over again, that a touched woman was an unwanted woman. They warned against the charismatic penniless youth that would sneak into your bed and leave you heavy with child and alone. 

Rey was terrified of ending up as one of the girls in their stories. She’d rather be an old maid for the rest of her life than love a man only for him to leave her. 

Poe obviously had found love, and it was simply too easy for him to belittle her lack of it. 

She paced the length of her room, her frustration at everyone in the house coming to a head. Hux for luring her into his room only to ask for something she refused to give, Finn for poking fun at their employer overstepping his bounds instead of showing concern, and Poe for being a right ass. 

She grabbed the pen and paper from her desk and marked down the hall, up the stairs to the foyer and up the next flight to Hux’s hall. It was colder here than in her room, and despite the attention she had paid to them earlier, the windows were covered in another layer of dusty smudge. She tiptoed across the runner and sat down at the base of the locked door to the blue room. 

She pressed her paper to the door and scribbled a greeting. 

_Are you there?_

She shoved the paper beneath the door and waited. The sun had set not too long ago and the dark blue tinted light of the moon draped across everything. She heard movement and then the paper appeared on her side of the door.

_Always._

Rey smiled, setting her pen to paper.

_I’m afraid I’m in dire need of a friend at the moment._

She slipped the paper under the door and moment later got her reply.

_I would be honored to be named one. Did something happen?_

Rey hesitated. She could tell him about Hux and Poe but she didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted to read more of Ben’s words, to learn something else- something new about the soul on the other side of the door.

_Is it boring in your room? I could slip a novel under the door. _

She heard a noise from behind the door that she could have sworn was a muffled laugh.

_I’m all right. I’ve made due for some time now. I’ve practiced my calligraphy mostly and have perfected the art of staring out a window and brooding. _

Rey bit her lip to keep from chuckling.

_What a telling admission. Did you often brood before?_

_Constantly. _

_Then you must be a master of it now. _

_If you are in need of a lesson, you will find me a willing teacher. _

She flipped the page over and condensed her letters. Rey would kick herself if they ran out of paper before conversation.

_I am interested in the calligraphy. Where does one pick up such a hobby?_

The only people Rey knew who cared about penmanship were teachers and those trying to woo through letters.

_From one’s uncle, and one finds time to practice at University when one can no longer bear to hear another lecture. _

Her smile faltered. Rey had schooling, but through the Church. It was a basic education, sufficient for the tasks of a servant. University was never within her reach, as a poor person, or a woman. It also narrowed her search, but a bit too much. All of the Bens she had uncovered in the library could be no more educated than herself, with the exception of Kenobi which Ben had already made clear he was not.

She didn’t distrust his answer either. His writing, his energy, felt youthful. There was no way she could be writing to a stuffy old Colonel; this was a young man. 

Rey was passing letters to a man who was quite possibly a young gentleman. A young, dead gentleman. 

Rose would simply keel over and die if she ever got wind of this. 

_Did you not like school?_

_It was interesting, but ultimately, a waste._

_Of?_

_Time._

As someone locked inside a room, he must long for his days of freedom and life. No wonder he wished he could earn back wasted time, even if it was spent doing something Rey would die for.

_What would you have done instead?_

I would have listened to my heart more. 

A click echoed down the hall. Rey turned to see Hux’s door opening, the glow of a candle emerging from it. She quickly shoved the paper and pen into her skirt pocket and made for the stairs but paused. At the risk of being discovered, Rey rushed back and pressed herself to the door and whispered into the wood.

“Goodnight.” 

She turned for the stairs, but she swore she could hear the rumble of a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy tuesday y'all <3


	5. Chapter 5

Rey hardly lifted a finger to clean the manor the entire week. If she wasn’t talking to the air in her room she was sweeping the same section of the second floor corridor. She’d give Hux a kind smile as he passed by, throwing her skirts over the paper sitting just underneath the door. If Hux found her work less than acceptable he didn’t mention it. Only relishing in the grins she flashed him before vanishing out the front door to go to town with his posse of men in black. 

As soon as the front door was slammed shut and the dust settled into the usual nooks and crannies Rey was neglecting, she’d drop back to the floor hungrily grabbing the paper passed to her. 

She’d never written so much in her life. At school they never expected her to pen her emotions or opinions and as it turned out she seemed to have quite a few. She was grateful when Hux finally left the property and she could talk into the grain of the door and give her poor fingers a rest. She sat, her hands in her lap working out the cramps in her thumb rattling on about her life in London. Ben seemed very interested in her time before coming to the Manor and Rey was very willing to talk. No one usually cared about a poor girl’s childhood. She didn’t experience enough trauma as a babe to warrant attention. Being an orphan was all too common these days and the rich didn’t fawn over misfortune equally. Ben suggested she lose a hand and maybe then she’d be a ward of a wealthy old crone. 

He was quick-witted but warm. Rey knew people who were sharp and clever but let that overwhelm their heart until they could no longer say a kind word to anyone. Ben joked, but seemed to be careful not to be too pointed. She could tell where words had been scratched out, or ink pooled on the page that he had thought over his words before passing them over. 

Rey held the paper, reading his words and wondered what his voice must sound like. He was wealthy enough to have attended school, but rich boys tended to be frail things with weak constitutions and little drive for work. Perhaps he was thin with a tenor tone. Or maybe he was thick and fat with a low baritone. Funny enough, she didn’t seem to care either way. He was a soul to talk to, one that was not occupied with the man who lived by the lake or focused on her status as a maid. 

He was another heart stuck in Chandrila Manor. 

Rey leaned against Ben’s door, her skirts pooled around her on the floor and her hem hiked up to her knees. As there was no one to stumble upon her, she didn’t care how she looked. She pulled the pins from her hair, tired of their incessant scraping against her scalp. Hux was out and Finn was… well she didn’t know where Finn was. With Hux out of the house she could only assume he was out in his shed _entertaining_. 

Of course if he knew what she was doing he’d probably say the same about her. 

“I need to write to Rose,” Rey said. She plucked a particularly painfully placed pin from her head and inspected the end, for surely it should have drawn blood. “I didn’t have anything to talk about and now I have too much to say to her.” 

The paper slid under the door. 

__

_Careful, Hux will read your letters._

Rey frowned, and flicked the paper back beneath the door. 

“That man is horrid,” Rey said. “How Finn has kept his secrets this long I’ll never know.”

A moment and then white gleamed against the wood floor. 

__

_He does not want to bed Finn._

“Ben!” She was thankful that no one was around to see the blush that bled across her entire face.

The paper inched further out into the hall as if driving the point home. She snatched up the paper, silencing him for the moment. 

“You may be… correct but I’d rather not think about it. The less I have to think about Hux the better.” 

She looked down at the paper, her fingers drumming against the words. Despite the normalcy of their conversations, Rey could not shake the thought clawing at the back of her mind. She’d been so eager for a companion that she had jumped into a friendship with a… well she didn’t know what he was. A ghost? A spirit? She slid the paper back to him.

“Ben,” she began before her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed hard before continuing. “Are you… dead?” 

There was a long stretch of silence before her regret quickly boiled over. 

“You don’t have to answer that. That was an exceptionally rude thing to ask and I’m-” 

A fresh piece of paper slid into the hall with only one sentence on it. 

__

_I don’t know._

Rey took a moment, blinking at the paper and trying to piece together the idea but failing each time. 

“How is that possible? Surely one is alive or one is dead?” she said. She shoved the paper back beneath the door only for it to reappear just as it had before. I don’t know still taunting her from the page. “I… I don’t understand.” 

There was a small knock from the otherside of the door. Rey pushed the paper under the door and waited. An eternity seemed to pass before she saw the paper again. 

__

_I am here on Earth, but I am not mortal. It is hard to explain but I feel a dividing of my soul. I am forced to haunt this room in my separated state stuck between life and death._

“What kind of divide?” she asked, pushing the paper back to Ben. It certainly sounded like he was a spirit, but it seemed that ghosts did not behave as they did in Rose’s imagination. They were not apparitions floating around a hall, or screams echoing in the night. They could write and think, and they didn’t know what they were either. The page reappeared. 

__

_While I don’t know where I stand between life and death now, I know in my true life I was not good. I know your first instinct is to come to my defense-_

Rey halted the protestation that had rose in her throat. He had judged her reaction before she ever made it. 

__

_-But please do not. You do not know my crimes, nor the hate that used to own my heart. I am confronted with my own rage. Divided into the man I was and the man I could be._

Rey held her breath, her fingers trembling against the paper. All of Rose’s ghosts were troubled souls and it appeared her Ben was the same. What crimes did he speak of? She could hardly imagine the man she was talking to as a criminal and yet, he admitted his transgressions. Her throat was dry and she did not trust her voice to be steady. Instead she grabbed her pen and wrote the words waiting on her tongue. 

__

_Which one are you?_

She pushed the paper under the door, and waited with bated breath. 

“MISS NIIMA!” Hux’s voice called from down the stairs. She gasped, jumping to her feet. All the hair pins stowed in her skirts fell to the floor, blending in against the dark wood. She went back to her knees, trying to grab them. Perhaps if she was quick she could arrange her hair back into its proper style. Panic gripped her, her fingers dropping the thin pins as soon as she held one. “NIIMA!” 

When had he arrived back at the manor? Was he not supposed to be out all day? 

Rey shoved a pin against her scalp, managing to hold her hair out of her face with the rest trailing down her back. It was not acceptable but she feared what might be worse- the lecture on her appearance or her lateness. She took off down the stairs, her eyes on her feet as she took the stairs as quickly as possible down to the foyer. 

“Mr. Hux, my apologies for my tardiness I-” her voice died in her throat. Hux stood in the foyer, black book tucked beneath his arm, with four men dressed in all black behind him. They did not have the soft gentry look to their faces as he did, but the hard faces of men back in London. She froze on the stairs, her fingers gripping the handrail with white knuckles. 

“Miss Niima,” Hux smiled at her. “Could you bring tea to the parlor for our guests?” 

Her eyes flickered to the men with him before finally nodding. 

“What was that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her silence. 

“Yes, Mr. Hux,” she choked out, giving a curtsey. 

“Thank you,” he said, before turning to his guests and motioning down the hall. “Gentlemen.” 

They were no gentlemen, Rey could tell that much. She waited until they vanished down the corridor before sprinting down the servants’ stairs and into the kitchen. Finn sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. 

“Finn, could you put a kettle on, please?” Rey asked, before turning back to her room. 

“Hey, what’s all the rush?” he called after her. 

“We have guests!” she shouted, bursting into her room and throwing open a drawer. She began digging out more pins and shoving them between her teeth as she twisted her long hair into a bun. 

“Guests?” Finn popped his head into her room. 

“_Men_,” Rey snarled out between the pins, plucking one out and shoving it into her hair. 

“Hux’s men?” he questioned, his voice catching. Rey paused, shooting him a look.

“Do you know them?” Her eyes narrowed at him. 

Finn blinked at her. 

“No.” His voice was clipped and high. What an atrocious liar. “I’ll put the kettle on.” 

Rey turned back to her work, slipping a few more pins into place. She soon ran out and while she felt wisps of hair escaping the hold, it felt better than before. She rushed into the kitchen, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. Finn kept his promise, seeing over the stove as she assembled the tray. 

“Finn, who are these men?” she asked.

“Uh, friends?” 

“Hux doesn’t have friends,” she spit out. 

“Businessmen,” he tried again.

“What kind of business?” she said, slamming a saucer down. 

“Why do you care, Rey? They’re just guests. They’ll leave in a few hours,” Finn snapped at her. She paused looking up. He had never used such a tone with her before, and she stared shocked and offended. He withered under her glare almost immediately. 

“Finn,” she hissed, a warning shot. 

“I have to, uh, pull weeds,” he said, before running for the door. 

“Finn Dameron!” she shouted as he made off into the garden leaving her alone in the kitchen. Rey sighed, resigned to her ignorance as she assembled the tray. 

What good was knowledge if one did not share it? Finn could be so selfish at times it made her want to scream. 

She poured the tea into the ornate pot reserved for Hux and started for the parlor. From the foyer she could hear their voices calling over each other. Laughing and shouting. She took a breath and pressed the door open with her hip and stepped inside. 

Their voices halted, all eyes turning on her. The men sat on the couches, their boots tracking mud on the rugs and their coats pressing dust into the cushions. She looked to Hux, who stood by the fireplace, his black book open as if he had been reading from it. 

“Over there, Miss Niima,” he said, tossing his head to the low table set in the middle of the men. Rey nodded, and started for the table. All she needed to do was put the tray down and then she could slip away. 

She had walked through rowdy men before and she would again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you got a pretty one, Hux?” One of the men, his cheeks deep with with pock divots, said.

“I liked her better with her hair down,” another one said, his greasy blonde hair pulled into a braid down his back. 

“You needn’t concern yourself with the staff of the Manor,” Hux said, with his usual nasally tone. Rey set the tray down on the table, trembling fingers pouring tea into the five cups laid out. She went slowly despite her panic. If she spilled, she’d be forced to stay longer to clean it up. 

“Well, I wasn’t until you hired a pretty little thing,” the Pock Marked man said, leaning forward. Rey didn’t avert her gaze from the tea cups, but she could smell him. Dirt, sweat, and tobacco. 

“You’re not paid to gawk,” Hux hissed. She poured a fourth cup, her heart thumping fiercely over the sound of their voices. She had been in the country for so long she forgot how loud a group of men could be. 

“We’re not hardly paid at all!” the Pock Marked man laughed. Rey poured the last cup and quickly rose, turning to Hux to be dismissed. 

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Hux said, looking down into his book. 

“Mr-” Rey began, hoping to be dismissed but was interrupted. 

“It’s been years, Hux,” the Pock Marked man said, rising to his feet. He was only an inch or so taller than Rey. Not towering, but large enough to make her nervous. For once, she longed for the fences around the girl’s school where men like that could not reach her. “You said once Benny was out of the picture we’d get our pay day.”

She froze. Were they talking about Ben? Her Ben? Had he stood in their way? Prevented their black dealings? 

“There were complications,” Hux hissed, his jaw tensing. He rolled his neck looking up at the man and snapping his book closed. “You know that.” 

Hux was involved in it as well. A guard to keep an eye on Ben in his jail cell. 

There was a pause and Hux turned on her. 

“That is all, Miss Niima.” 

She curtsied and started for the door. 

“Aw, come on Hux, let her stay. She’s nice on the eyes,” the man with the braid said, his compliments coated in venom. 

“Miss Niima, would you like to stay?” Hux said, his eyes pinning her in place. Rey looked to the other men in the room and then back to his watery blue eyes. 

“If it pleases Mr. Hux, I’d rather not.” 

He smiled. She curtsied and was out the door before the other men could say anything else. She picked up her skirts and sprinted through the foyer and up the stairs. She fell against Ben’s door, rapping against it until a paper appeared at her feet. 

__

_?_

A pen followed the letter and she kneeled down, her pen looping wildly as she wrote as quickly as possible. 

__

_The men downstairs locked you in?_

She shoved the paper under the door, wrinkling it in her haste. She waited, her knees digging into the floor. For a brief moment she felt the familiar sensation of warmth cast over her. Ben must have gone to look for himself. She waited for a few minutes, until she felt the same warmness around her shoulders again and soon after the paper reappeared. 

__

_Yes._

The criminals! She knew they were off, always leering around outside waiting for Hux. Whatever they had done to Ben was unforgivable but now she had a chance to right it. 

_Hux is a part of them, he must have a key to your door._

Fear and possibility sent her heart marching in her chest. 

_Rey, whatever you are planning, do not. _

She frowned. Did he not want to be freed? Surely if they had the chance to liberate him from his room he would jump at the chance. 

_If I were to get the key we could unlock your door and then you’d be free to roam through the house at all hours. You would no longer be trapped with your hatred. You could be alive within the manor._

Rey waited, listening to the men’s conversation drift upstairs as they exited the parlor hopefully to leave forever. 

_Rey, I could not ask that of you._

She smiled. 

_You aren’t asking, I am proposing._

Rey slid the paper under the door put quickly pressed her face close to the door. 

“They tried to dispose of you. If they locked you in I can free you. Let me help you.” 

A pause. She pressed her palm against the door, knowing he couldn’t see the gesture but perhaps he could feel it. 

He did not choose to reply so she made the decision for him. 

“Meet me in my room later. I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy tuesday y'all 💜


	6. Chapter 6

After tonight, Rey would make Poe eat his words. Despite the time that had passed, his comment still held venom. Prudishness was both a desirable and yet wholly unwanted trait in a woman. It seemed for a young lady to succeed in life she had to master the duality of desire. To hint at what may happen, but never give in. Perhaps if he had not commented on her lack of experience she wouldn’t have considered this plan an option at all. In that case, she had Poe to thank, for she felt she could get anything she desired tonight if she played her cards correctly. 

Rey made her way through the dark, quiet house. The candle in her hand didn’t shake, for she wore the warm calmness of Ben’s watchfulness around her like a cloak. Under her skirts, red garters held lace white stockings in place. 

It was past midnight when she knocked on Hux’s door. It wasn’t every day that Rey set out to convince a man of her… desires thus the evening was spent in her room, whispering lines Rose had once said while trying to appear more lustful. Seduction was not a card Rey was used to playing, nor was she in any way talented at it. For once, she was grateful she couldn’t actually see Ben. She would have felt embarrassed practicing passion in front of anyone, but the fact that she didn’t have to look him in the eye, helped. Rey had never been particularly hungry for male attention. Whereas a lot of the girls mooned over the younger, leaner priests at school or the delivery men with their thick muscles, Rey was unfazed. She liked the men in Rose’s stories- the ones that did not exist. They were never normal men. They had dark pasts and tragic futures. They held damning secrets ready to be overturned. 

Normal men were, well, a bore. 

However, the good thing about a boring man is that it is easy to know exactly what he wants. Men, from Rey’s limited experience, wanted women to adore them and to compliment the parts of their personality that were not worth noting. So she practiced by stepping into her room and leaning against her own desk as if it was Hux’s. She picked a point on the wall to focus on since there was no face to pretend with, and rattled off empty praises while batting her lashes and holding her body in a most uncomfortable position. Ben had told her to relax more, to move like she usually did but with more- his pen had paused for nearly an entire minute before writing- _knowledge of the bedroom_. Her face had turned as red as port, which made Ben scribble on his paper that the all encompassing blush she wore really sold it. Her cheeks burned even brighter. She felt that same glowing feeling, as if laughter was heat and a gentle breeze through her hair. 

She stood in silence, listening to footsteps on the other side of the door. She quickly raised a hand to her hair, checking to ensure her wavy hair was still laid carefully over her shoulders. Rey had spent far too much time fretting in the mirror long after Ben had assured her Hux was asleep. It wasn’t until he accused her of stalling that she finally grabbed her candle and went upstairs. 

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered to the corridor. 

The door swung open. Hux stood in his nightshirt, a robe thrown over his shoulders. His red hair was still greasy but was sticking up from being shoved in a pillow. Her candle threw shadows over his confused face. 

“Miss Niima?” he asked, blinking as if he didn’t quite believe he was awake. Rey took a breath before diving into her play. 

“Evening, Armitage,” she looked up at him through her eyelashes. She pressed a hand to his door and he let her open it the rest of the way. Without waiting for a proper conversation she moved into the room brushing as close to the man as she dared go. The same sickly scent covered everything, but wasn’t as strong as before. He probably sprayed it just for her and the thought made her stomach flip in a most unpleasant fashion. “I wanted to thank you for defending me today. It made me… reconsider a few things.” 

The poor man, groggy with sleep, turned to follow her little dance into his room. Rey swallowed hard before raising the hem of her skirt from the floor to show off just a flash of white stocking. 

“You changed your mind?” he asked, his voice hoarse. 

“What do you think, _Armitage_?” Rey laid it on thick, trying to mimic the girls at school who flourished under male attention. They could weave a web of insults and questions that somehow worked out to a pleasing proposition. It felt like a different language on her tongue, spoken with a heavy accent of a non-native speaker. 

He replied by letting the door to his room fall closed behind him. The thud of wood on wood set Rey’s heart marching like a soldier to the battlefield. Getting in was the easy part. Rey peered over her shoulder at his desk and started backing up toward it.

“Rey, I think I may be dreaming,” he muttered, as if more to himself than her. She turned to him with a smile. 

“And what if you are?” she asked, seating herself in his desk chair and setting her candle on the desk. Rey felt Ben’s warmness over her shoulders and could smell ink and parchment through the haze of sweet smoke. She was both thankful he was there and embarrassed he was watching, but this was for him. She didn’t think he’d mind too much. 

“Then I do not wish to wake up,” Hux said, crossing the room towards her. Rey tried not to panic as he closed in on her but she could not control her instincts. She quickly stood, desperate to be in a more defensible stance. 

“What would you do?” she asked, ignoring the roar of her heart in her ears. “If I was here with you, Armitage?” 

God forgive her for the words on her lips. 

Hux leaned forward and she jerked away, bumping into the desk behind her. He reached a hand out and she gripped the edge of the desk to keep from slapping his hand away. His fingers touched her throat, slick with sweat. She cringed and quickly turned her face away to avoid betraying her emotions. After all, if this was Hux’s dream she wouldn’t hate him in it. At least she thought she wouldn’t. 

“Your skin is so soft.” She frowned as his palm pressed against her jaw, his skin clammy to the touch. Rey’s fingers clattered against the desk, reaching down the drawers on the side and searching for a handle. The memory of a key hanging within stuck in mind. She could only pray it was the key she was after and not to a broom closet somewhere. However, if he kept his coveted black book with it, it must be important. She grasped in the dark until her nails caught the edge of the wood, the drawer pulling out a smidge from her blind effort. 

She was so involved in her search for the drawer that Rey didn’t see Hux move in. Her whole body jumped as his lips touched her throat, cool and entirely too wet for her liking. His mustache tickled, the grease used to style it rubbing off on her skin. She gasped, pressed herself flush against the desk in an attempt to escape the man’s touch. 

“I knew you’d enjoy it,” he crooned against her throat. Rey felt her stomach churn. She pushed aside the nausea building in her throat and grabbed the handle she had discovered, yanking the drawer open. She could hear the metal of the key clank against its wooden container. “Even when you ran, I knew you would have begged for more.” 

Rey gagged silently, her mind on the drawer beneath her fingertips. She reached around grabbing at papers until she felt her pinky brush against cold metal. 

_Finally._

She closed her fingers around the metal, pulling it out. She turned back around to face Hux and instead had his lips crash into hers. He tasted of cigar smoke and stew and Rey could not abide anymore of the charade. She pushed him back, desperate for some air between their bodies. 

“Sorry, Armitage,” she said, kicking the drawer to his desk closed. She held the key to her chest and crossed to the door. “You have to wake up now.” 

Before he could say anything else, she threw herself out the door and down the corridor. She had to move quickly in case Hux decided to follow. She ran into the heavy wood door she had spent the better part of a week sitting in front of, practically wearing a hole in the floor with her constant note passing. She inserted the key, listening the metal inside the lock click into place, and dashed inside. 

Rey froze, her back pressed to the door and her chest heaving from her mad sprint down the corridor. The room around her looked as if it was lifted from a completely different house and attached to the moody maroon mansion. The wood of the dresser and desk was light, almost white. The curtains and bedspreads were a soothing sky blue. One of the windows was open, a cool night breeze moving the thin curtains and spilling the smell of wet grass into the air. And sitting on the bed, back facing her, was a man. 

Rey held her breath. He had a mess of dark curls and his shoulders were impossibly broad under his shirt. Not at all sickly as she thought he might be. 

“Ben.” The name left her lips in a whisper. She wasn’t even entirely sure she said the word aloud and not just in her mind, until the man moved. He turned to look over his shoulder at her. Dark eyes took her in and a large crooked grin spread across his pale face. 

“Rey,” his voice was much lower than she could have imagined. It rumbled like an incoming thunderstorm after a long drought. 

He looked like the scratched out portrait downstairs had come to life. The painting had captured his sharp angles and prominent features. The constellation of moles across his skin and the largeness of his nose. It didn’t manage to capture the ease with which he held himself or the gentleness in how he approached her now. He stood up from the bed, his frame taller than she’d imagined, and moved towards her. He kept his hands by his sides, but his fingers twitched as if hungry to reach out. If she held her hand out, would she feel him? Or would her fingers fall through him like smoke? 

They stood there, frozen, each taking in the other. How odd to share a space and be fully present. Rey had spoken to him with her letters, had talked to the air around her knowing he was listening. And yet, it was hard to meet his eyes. Difficult to reconcile the idea that he could truly see her. 

She had never had such intimate conversations with a man before and now, looking into the eyes of a gentleman who knew all her thoughts, it was daunting to think about. Could she have spoken to him like this from the start? Or could they only learn so much through letters and whispers through doors? 

After a long silence, Rey felt herself taken over by curiosity. She stepped forward, lifting a hand into the air and slowly closing the gap between them. Ben didn’t move, only watched her approach. Her fingers hit the fabric of his vest, the rough fibers scratching at her skin. 

Rey gasped, expecting to move through him like air but suddenly taken aback by his very real presence. She pressed down, her palm flush against his chest. She felt no heartbeat.

“You’re real,” she said, looking up at him. His lips pulled into a half smirk. 

“Sort of.” His voice was soft and his hands rose to envelope hers. His skin was cold as if he just came in from a day out in the snow. Rey shivered but didn’t pull away. 

It was at that moment, her hand closed between Ben’s, feeling the coolness of his touch and standing in his shadow, that Rey realized she was still in her outfit to visit Hux. Her lace stockings tickled her thighs, and the curls around her shoulders felt entirely too casual. But then again, Ben could have seen her in any state while she’d been here. He had certainly seen her with her hair down before, and he couldn’t possibly mind it now. Still, a blush rose to her cheeks, finding herself unprepared to meet the heir of the house, whatever state of living he might be in. 

Rey handed out the key she had stolen from Hux’s room. Ben looked at the key for a moment, the dim moonlight catching the metal and sparkling like a jewel. 

“You keep it,” he said, freeing her hand from his. 

“I’ll take good care of it,” she said breathlessly. 

“I know you will.” 

A door slammed from down the hall. Rey jumped, realizing she left a half awake Hux to wander around the house and find that what occurred was not a dream. 

“I- I need to go-” she began. Leaving was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She had a million questions to ask- would he visit her now? Could he walk around at all hours? Was he… was he dead? 

“It’s okay,” he said, calming her thoughts as if she had said them aloud. “We can talk tomorrow.” 

She sighed, relieved. Of course they could talk tomorrow, but that did nothing for her mind working double time right now. She wanted to ask him to follow her. To walk freely through the house and spend the rest of the night talking in her room. But considering his bodied spirit, it suddenly seemed inappropriate. Now that her pen pal had a physical form, manners should be followed and she simply could not ask a man to spend the night in her room.

“Good night, Miss Niima,” Ben said, taking a step back and dipping into a deep bow. Not low enough to be a sarcastic play at respect, but enough to make her chest tighten. 

“Good night, Mr. Solo,” Rey said, lowering into a curtsey. She hadn’t realized the simple gesture could make her feel so many things all at once. A curtsey was a blunt dip to be given to men to make sure they feel important. A required bow she usually took no pleasure in, as a person took no pleasure in mundane motions like moving an arm or taking a step. Yet, her first curtsey to Ben Solo sent her heart fluttering into her throat. Perhaps it was the honor he had shown her first, or the simple realization that he was in fact a person and not just in the air she breathed. 

A comforting presence and a man were very different things. 

Rey backed up, giving a nervous smile before stepping into the hallway. She lingered in the doorway again, looking over her shoulder as if he might have vanished in the brief time her back was turned. 

He nodded and she felt that calming warmness rest around her shoulders. 

Tomorrow. 

She closed the door and then fell against the wood, holding the key to it to her chest. She wondered if they would still write to one another, or if they could sit around and talk. She wondered if he would act differently now. Or if maybe she would? 

She thought of the portrait downstairs, of the cool clear eyes that she had been so taken with. 

Why had he scratched out his name? Why had he not revealed his surname to her? She had been wondering after this mysterious Ben only for his portrait and family history to be in front of her this whole time. 

She started down the stairs, the thick curtains pulled over the windows casting the entire stairwell into shadow. Rey held onto the railing tightly, feeling her way through the darkness until her eyes began to adjust. She was about to step onto the cool tile of the foyer when she heard a noise off to her right. Dread slipped down her spine at the thought of Hux catching her out of her room. He’d certainly want to continue what she had instigated earlier and she was, under no circumstances, going to do any such thing. She veered to the side, slipping into an alcove along the foyer wall, across the door to the servants’ quarters. Quickly, she shoved the key to Ben’s room into the pocket of her dress and slipped her hands under her skirts to remove the awful stockings Hux had gifted her. She stuffed them into her pocket as well, her shaking hands moving to her hair to try to braid it into the style she usually slept in. Anything to make herself look different from the “dream” that appeared earlier. 

She heard a grunt from the middle of the foyer and her fingers froze in their work. The voice was deep, manly, but so out of place. Forgetting her hair, Rey leaned against the wall, peering around to look into the dim foyer. 

She saw a figure standing in the center, looking up at Ben’s portrait. A small table stood under it, laden with vases of flowers. The figure stood right beside it, wearing what looked like a long inky black coat. Rey didn’t know what to do. They didn’t get visitors in Chandrila Manor very often, and certainly not in the middle of the night. A thief, then? She could call out, try to scare him away. Maybe if she spoke loud enough Finn would hear and come running. Or perhaps it was one of Hux’s friends from earlier to steal what they claimed they were owed?

Maybe Ben would come down, but what could Ben do? 

Rey was shaken from her thoughts when a crashing sound slammed into her ears. The sound startled her and she jumped from the alcove to see shards of pottery slide across the floor. Water and flowers sat in a sad pile at the figure’s feet. 

Rey gaped at the mess. Thieves were supposed to steal things, not break them. The pottery had slid across the tile all the way to her toes at the edge of the room. She looked up and found the figure facing her, only there was no face to look on. The entire figure was dipped in blackness, his face covered in shadow that he seemed to carry with him not cast by any light, concealing his identity. 

The figure roared. The already broken vase was crushed to dust beneath his boots as the figure came towards her, his coat trailing behind him like a cape. 

Rey, not knowing what else to do, cornered as she was, lifted a hand to stop him. He pressed against her palm, a heartbeat thumping beneath her hand, before passing through her like smoke, leaving the smell of sulfur and burning wood behind while he simply vanished. 

She froze for a moment, alone in the silent foyer, a broken vase at her feet and her nose stinging. There was nothing left but the sound of her own heart in her ears and her rapid breathing. 

“Hello?” Hux’s voice carried from upstairs. Rey slapped a hand over her mouth, not daring to make a noise, and quickly stepped through the broken pottery on bare feet towards the servants’ stairs. She cringed, a sharp edge slicing into her foot before she managed to throw herself through the doorway and down the stairs. She pushed through the pain, fear motivating her more than anything else, and hobbled down the hall, into her room, and collapsed onto her bed. 

The high of meeting Ben was long gone, but the smell of sulfur still stuck to her clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy tuesday y'all and a happy Halloween 🎃


	7. Chapter 7

Rey kept her face blank as Hux gathered them in the kitchen the next morning. She’d woken up to her foot covered in dried blood. She quickly cleaned up the mess, threw Hux’s stockings under her bed, and slipped into a fresh dress. She’d pinned her hair back and tried her best to look unsuspecting. 

She should have told someone last night what had happened, but who would believe her? And now Hux was going to point a pale finger at them and demand to know which one had broken an incredibly expensive vase. Neither of them made enough to pay back the estate, even combined. She could keep quiet about it, but the shoe had to eventually drop. 

The only thought she had going forward was that she wasn’t going to let Finn take the blame. She would take full responsibility. The phantom would remain a secret and she’d spend the next few years paying back a useless vase in a useless empty house. 

She stepped into the kitchen. The room was cold in the early morning. No one had yet to light the stove to cook breakfast. Finn sat at the table looking nervous and Hux looked out the window onto the yard with a rather dour expression on his face. 

_Be brave, Rey._

“Good morning,” she said, giving them both a curtsy. Finn only looked at her and Hux didn’t bother with the pleasantries. 

“There has been an incident,” he said. His hands were clasped behind his back, his watery eyes glaring into the morning sun as if it was a trespasser on Manor grounds. 

“What kind of incident?” Rey choked out. She wished she hadn’t spoken at all, but she’d rather the whole ordeal get done quickly so they could move on. 

“A familiar presence has been unleashed on Chandrila Manor,” Hux said, finally turning to the two of them. Rey blinked. This was not the direction she was expecting this morning meeting to go. “I have lost the key to the blue room.” 

Finn shook his head, as if disappointed by the news. Rey’s skirt pocket grew heavy with the key inside of it. She swallowed hard, trying to remain calm. 

“What does that mean, sir?” she managed to say. 

“I know you have been here for a short time, Miss Niima, and you are not aware of all of the secrets the Manor holds,” Hux began, moving away from the window and closer to her corner of the kitchen. “I know you are a sensible woman, but I am entirely serious when I tell you there is a presence in this house.” 

“A presence?” she asked. She felt her face grow pale. 

“It is hard to explain. There is a soul or presence tied to the stones-” 

“A ghost,” Finn chimed in. 

“A ghostly visitor,” Hux said. “That resides with us. Years ago it was a terror. It upended furniture, shattered windows, and petrified every housekeeper it came in contact with.” 

“One of them was sent to an asylum,” Finn threw over his shoulder. Hux cringed, obviously not wanting to note what came of the housekeepers he spoke of. 

“Yes. But we managed to contain it. We imprisoned it in the blue room on the second floor. And life has been uneventful, until last night.” Hux cleared his throat, his eyes moving around the room reluctant to fall on Rey. “A vase was shattered in the foyer last night. All the signs of our guest are there: the smell, bootprints, and I am missing the key to the blue room.”

“The blue room?” she parroted, her throat thick by her mind focused on appearing as ignorant as possible. 

“The locked room on the second floor. Years ago I configured it to contain the spirit, but it seems he has wiggled his way out,” Hux spit the final words. 

“What do you think happened?” Rey said, keeping her face controlled. The lies twisted her guts around. She could feel Luke Skywalker’s eyes on her, drilling in the importance of honesty in a young person. She felt sick. 

“I think, in its time locked up, the presence has grown stronger. I was plagued with very strange dreams last night, but I now believe they were the work of the ghost,” Hux turned away from her as he spoke, reluctant to look at her face as he mentioned the night before. And thank goodness he did, for Rey felt like she was going to faint. She felt very warm all of a sudden, and sweat gathered on her brow. “We need to find the key and return our friend back to its cell.” 

“So, it is a dangerous presence?” Rey asked, her voice shaking. 

“Extremely so.” 

“Thank you for the warning, sir. If it is alright with you, I’d like to return to my room. I’m not feeling very well at the moment.” Rey smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt, wiping the sweat from her palms. 

“Of course, but first I must insist I search both of your rooms,” he said. Finn and Rey both stiffened at the news. “Considering the direness of the situation.” 

Rey shared a look with Finn. They both had their secrets. 

“Of course,” Rey squeaked out, the key heavy in her pocket.

“Perfect,” Hux smiled and shouldered past her down the hall to her room. She swallowed the panic rising in her gullet, following him into her small quarters. He began rifling through her things, lifting her pillow and pulling her sheets from her bed. She felt Finn move behind her, slipping into his own room to hide whatever personal items he didn’t want Hux to notice. She held her breath as he reached under her bed, pulling out his gifted stockings. He held them for a moment before tossing them back to the floor and turning to her desk. He pulled open a drawer, the papers containing her first correspondence with Ben laying right on top. She threw herself over the desk, snatching up the papers and holding them tight to her chest where he did not chance of viewing them. 

“Miss Niima?” he raised an eyebrow at her. She saw a muscle in his jaw tense. 

“Mr. Hux,” she began her voice shaking. She was so tired of lying. “Please allow a young woman her own private thoughts.” 

He glared at her, seeming ready to demand she turn them over. Her stomach twisted as she weaved yet another lie. 

“Armitage,” his given name gave him pause. “Please, I would be mortified if _you_ of all men read them.” 

The innuendo seemed to be enough but she shook out the paper as well. 

“I have nothing to hide.” How she didn’t choke on the lie she’ll never know. 

His thin lips pulled into a smile. Hux reached out resting a hand on her shoulder. 

“I know. You’re a good girl, Rey.” She forced a smile as he walked out, barging into Finn’s room where she hoped her friend had whisked away all pieces of his private life. Rey quickly shut the door, leaning her weight against it in the absence of a lock. 

Everything hit her all at once, like a fist to the stomach. She fell into a heap on her floor, her hands trembling. She should have told Finn about the letters, about Ben. He would have warned her; he would have said something. She’d wanted this secret to herself. It had made the long lonely days more enjoyable, made her feel like she was in a novel and not in her actual drab life. Yet, by trying to do a small goodness, she had unleashed something so much worse. 

A poor girl was sent to an asylum _because of Ben_. Her lungs burned with each new breath as she struggled to hold back sobs. She had been friendly! She’d unlocked the room and blushed and giggled like a stupid little girl. He hadn’t even asked her, she had done it willingly!

She heard a rattling and looked up to see the pen, Ben’s pen, rocking back and forth on her desk. Rey stood, grabbing the pen and chucking it across the room. It smacked the stone wall, clattering to the floor. Some of the design chipped off, leaving little fragments in the dust collecting in the corner. 

She froze. If the pen had moved, he was here. Rey stayed perfectly still, her eyes wet from tears she’d fought so hard not to shed. She knew her nose was pink, her eyes puffy. She’d freed him, he could be anywhere he pleased now. 

“If you want to say something, say it to my face,” she said. Her voice was nasally from tears, but her tone held firm. If her pen pal wanted to talk, she wasn’t about to let him hide behind paper. She wanted to see him. 

She’d asked for it and yet immediately regretted it. The air shimmered like the waves above a hot stove and then suddenly he was there. Ben seemed infinitely taller in her small room than in his. He wore the same shirt and vest from last night, his curls arranged exactly the same. He appeared leaning against her desk, his dark eyes soft. 

She didn’t trust that at all. 

“I should have listened to you,” Rey began, her anger coming out as ice. “You told me you had done bad things and I… I thought it was hyperbole.” 

“Rey--” his hand reached out. Rey jumped back, recoiling from the sudden movement. He paused, pulling his hand slowly back to his side. “Rey, I’m your friend.” 

“Then what was that last night? That person that broke the vase -- was that you?” 

Ben sighed, looking out the window instead of her. “Sort of.” 

“That is not an answer.” 

“It’s the best one I have.” 

“Why were you locked in that room?” Her eyes didn’t leave his face, looking for any hint of rage. She knew how men’s emotions could flip from one extreme to the next. Except his shoulders sagged and he looked pained. “Those men, the ones who locked you in-” 

“I led them,” his eyes flickered to the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “I used to lead them. When I decided I could no longer hurt people for my own satisfaction I tried to leave. They needed my fortune, but not me. So, they made me comply.” 

“What did you do for them?” she asked, her eyes brimming. Her kind, sweet Ben was a lie and the worst part was that he tried to tell her. He looked away, shaking his head. “Did you steal?” 

He didn’t move. Her blood ran cold.

“Did you kill?” 

He didn’t move. 

“Of course you did- you’re Ben Solo,” she said. She had been so wrapped up in a pretty face she had forgotten everything Finn and Poe told her about the portrait in the hall. “You killed your own father.” 

Her whole body trembled as the words left her lips. She had been so blind, so ignorant. He seemed to curl inward at her words, silenced by them. 

“What’s your name,” she demanded. 

“Ben Solo.” His voice was thin. 

“No, you threw away that name. The name you picked for yourself- what was it?” she could feel the knife in her voice twisting into the wound. He looked up at her, his eyes ringed red. 

“Kylo Ren.” 

Rey remembered the newspapers, years ago. She remembered Luke sitting in the chapel at school silently praying as all the girls sat behind him. They had all prayed for the souls of Han Solo and his son. It had been an odd day, but she hadn’t thought much of it. She hadn’t known the connection at the time. None of them had. 

“You had a mother and a father,” she began, the old wounds a parentless orphan reopened. “And a fortune and a noble name- you had everything in this life. You could have been anything you wanted and you chose to throw it all away and be a murderer.’ 

“No, I--” He stepped forward. Rey drew herself to her full height and placed a palm out to stop him. She would no longer lose any ground in this discussion. 

“Did you or did you not?” 

A pause. His dark eyes looked down at her, his fingers twitched. 

“I did.” 

“Not only are you a malicious spirit, you were dreadful in life as well.” 

“Rey--” 

“You’re a monster.” 

Ben shrunk back as if she had burned him with her words. Rey wasn’t sure if she felt validated or horrible. 

“Rey? Are you okay?” Finn’s voice was followed by a quick knock on her door. Rey gave Ben a hard look, a sharp glare that told him he needed to go. 

He took a breath, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe I am,” he said before fading into the air.

Rey spun around and whipped the door open. 

“Hello, Finn, yes, I am fine,” she didn’t mean to snap at him, but the words came fast and sharp. 

“Did Hux finger your knickers?” Finn said trying to crack a joke she was in no mood to hear. 

“No. Apologies, Finn. I am fine. Just a bit on edge is all,” she said with a weak smile. She felt drained completely from the morning she’d had, and she still had chores to get done. 

“That’s understandable. I’ve only ever seen the phantom once and let me tell you, it sticks with you.” He looked off into the distance for a moment as if remembering the encounter before snapping back to the present. “Just make sure you stay in your room at night and you should be fine until we get the key.” 

“Thank you,” Rey replied, giving him a kind smile. He only wanted to help her.

“And Rey, if you do see it, just run,” he said, his dark eyes deadly serious. “This isn’t anything you want to mess with.”

She opened her mouth and for one split second the truth nearly spilled out. Everything about the phantom pen and her secret friend, sneaking into Hux’s room, the key in her pocket, everything. Instead her lips pulled into the default social smile. 

“Thank you, Finn. I’ll sleep easier with you nearby.” 

And she closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Rey attempted to throw herself into work. She dusted the bookshelves, washed the laundry, beat the rugs, and all the other boring chores she was left with. Finn was kind, but quiet. He seemed on edge with the phantom loose. Hux kept his distance but occasionally she’d find him staring down at her from his window while she worked in the yard. The key in her pocket grew heavier every day but she didn’t know what to do with it. If she returned it to Hux, she’d have to explain everything, and she absolutely did not want to do that. She could have locked the blue room, but she wasn’t sure if she’d contain the night phantom when she did so. Would she have to ensure the phantom was in the room first? How could she trap him there first when he could be anywhere?

She was considering dropping it into a flower bed for Finn to find and then he and Hux could take care of the whole thing without her. Except there was a small problem. 

Ben Solo. 

Rey went to the second floor library and began putting books Hux had left out back on their shelves when she turned to find none other than the heir to the manor sitting at a desk. 

Rey gasped, but quickly pulled the books to her chest and hurried over to the shelves.

“The weather is nice,” Ben said. Rey didn’t turn to him, nor did she reply. She was focused on the books in her hands, trying to find their rightful homes among the many volumes. “The grounds look very beautiful. Finn is truly a talented gardener.” 

A long pause. Rey shelved a book and moved to the next one. 

“You know, you’re the only one who has ever spoken to me.” 

Rey paused, her hand hovering in the air as she went to move another book into place. 

“There’ve been other housekeepers, and I’ve tried to speak to all of them. I’ve tried to talk to Finn, even Hux. I never managed it. I either couldn’t lift the pen, or when I wrote it never left any ink down.” Rey could hear him clear his throat behind her, but she dared not look at him. “But I could write to you. For the first time in a very long time I felt a connection with another person. It… it means a lot to me.” 

“It meant a lot to me, too.” Her voice was sharp as she shoved a book onto the shelf so hard it rattled the entire bookcase. Another long stretch of silence. Rey moved through the room, shelving books as she went. 

“It won’t hurt you.” 

“Hm?” 

“The night visitor. The man in black, he won’t hurt you.” 

“Because I can talk to you?” 

“No, because he likes you,” he said. Their eyes met for the first time the entire conversation. Rey hated the honesty she saw in his dark eyes. She hated that she believed every word he uttered. “He’s part of me, but he… goes his own way.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“You could say he’s the Kylo Ren part of me. The darkness that lived inside me as a person. As we’ve sat in that room for years we’ve grown apart, into separate entities.” 

“But you know his motives?” 

“His motives are my motives. His thoughts are my thoughts.” 

“But he’s a monster.” 

“And as you said, so am I.” 

Rey bit down on her bottom lip. He looked collected, if a bit tense. Rey leaned against the table beside her, forgetting the books still stacked up to be put away. Ben took a breath, apparently deciding her silence was more of a reply than any words could be. 

“We think the same, but we deal with it in different ways. He’s my darkness so his actions are a little… unsavory.” 

“You’re upset with me, why wouldn’t he want to harm me?” she challenged. 

“Because I like you. And I care about your well-being and happiness.” It was very matter of fact. As if it was well known that Ben cared about her, and it should come as no surprise to her. Rey balked, not sure what to do with the information. She knew they had enjoyed one anothers’ company but she didn’t think he cared about her happiness. She thought he saw her as a means to an end. A distraction for Hux, a carrier of a key. “Don’t act so surprised, Rey.” 

Her cheeks flushed at his words but she stood rooted in place. “I’m not surprised.” 

“You look surprised,” he smiled, the action warming his entire face. 

“Well just remember that my happiness includes Finn’s well-being so don’t have your uh… darkness doing anything to him either,” Rey said, grabbing the book from the top of her stack. 

“And Hux?” 

Rey paused, considering for a moment. 

“He can do whatever he likes with Hux.” 

* * *

Rey went about her work. Ben would occasionally pop in to talk, sitting on tables or leaning against shelves, his hands either in his pockets or crossed over his chest. He didn’t move a lot when he visited and always kept his hands captured as if to keep from moving them unnecessarily. Rey would move around the room, completing each task and once the room was done he’d nod and vanish again. 

She felt stuck as a crossroads. The more she spoke with Ben the more she felt her resolve weaken. It was terribly lonely in the house after the roar of school. Finn was busy with work and if he wasn’t working, he was whispering with Poe in the yard. Hux was not suitable company at all, and she avoided him whenever possible. The façade she had to put up around him was tiring and she could only look coy for a minute or so before her frustration began to bleed through. Ben was free to speak all the time but never lingered longer than he should. In a house where he could inhabit any corner, he still respected the concept of personal space. He had also learned that popping into rooms unannounced earned a broom to the face. 

She stepped into the library one afternoon to find Ben already seated at a desk. He was looking over a book, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off the muscles in his forearms. Rey moved past him placing a book Poe had borrowed back onto the shelf. She leaned against the volumes, breathing in the smell of old paper. It smelled like him.

“I… I don’t think you’re a monster,” she said, her voice quiet. She could hear him shift in his chair but she couldn’t brave his eyes, not yet. 

“History would say otherwise,” he replied, his voice stiff. 

“I wouldn’t like to be judged solely on my worst mistake, and I think it only fair I extend the same courtesy to you,” Rey turned away from the books and faced him. He seemed less downtrodden and the familiar warm protectiveness bubbled in the air between them. 

“If I am not to be judged on my mistakes, what shall I be judged on?” he asked, looking up at her with large dark eyes. Rey stepped closer, clasping her hands behind her back as she considered the question. 

“Well, as long as I have known you, you have been an attentive listener,” she said. “And a good companion.” 

“Companion?” he echoed. Rey stepped closer, her skirts brushing against the legs of his chair. 

“Yes, do you take offense to the word?” she felt herself smiling and couldn’t stop it. Something about Ben made her absolutely childish. 

“Not at all,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I quite like it.” 

“I fear you’re teasing me,” Rey said, her cheeks burning. 

“Never, Miss Niima. I am only basking in the victory of being named your companion.” 

“A victory, is it?” 

“To me? Of the highest regard.” 

* * *

Even if Ben Solo was kind, that did not change the other part of him that roamed the corridors at night. Ben said they share ideals, but she didn’t know if he could be believed. She knew nothing of this new world of spirits and split souls and there weren’t any books to read that might catch her up. 

Rey was plagued with a near constant stomachache as the days stretched into weeks. Finn and Hux were still looking for the key. Every day Mr. Hux asked if she’d seen it and she gave him a curtsey and a quick “no, sir” before retreating to the other end of the house. Historically, lying wasn’t something she did often, but now she was worried about how quickly she became good at it. 

The three of them sat down to dinner at the kitchen table, Hux gracing them with his presence rather than eating alone on the drafty second floor with the now unlocked blue room. Rey could hardly manage a single bite. She felt Hux’s eyes on her face and Finn’s warm hand reaching under the table to tap her knee as a silent question. 

“You don’t look well, Miss Niima,” Armitage said, suddenly at full attention, as if his help would ever be needed. 

“I don’t feel well, Mr. Hux. I think I’ll return to my room.” She pushed back her chair and went straight for her door, not even bothering to pour out the stew. Finn could use the second serving; he wasn’t taking as much now that Hux was glaring at them over dinner. 

Rey sat at her desk, exhausted beyond the work required of her. It’d been weeks since she’d unlocked the blue room. Every other night there was a mess to clean up: a vase, a book torn apart, a chair knocked over. Nothing difficult to remedy. One time she came in and found Ben hastily trying to clean up the mess his darkness had made the night before. She watched as he tried to lift a chair only for it pass through his hands halfway up and clatter back to the ground. There appeared to be a limit on what earthly objects he could touch and for how long. A pen was light, a touch of the hand was nothing in the grand scheme of things. But lifting furniture? Sweeping a hallway? Those were impossible tasks for a man who wasn’t truly alive. She’d walked over, helping him right the chair. He was embarrassed, but more so for the mess than requiring help. 

She set out a fresh piece of paper. Rose had yet to receive a letter from her dear friend and was probably thinking herself abandoned. Rey looked over to the pen she had chucked into the corner weeks ago. It didn’t seem as scary as it had then -- after all, it was a just a pen. 

Rey walked over to it, wiping the dust off its handle with her skirts before taking her place at the desk again. 

_Dear Rose,_

The pen jerked in her hand and suddenly it dragged her fingers with it as it wrote of its own volition. 

_Do you think Rose would send me a story? _

“She could send me a story. She doesn’t know you and as you said, Hux reads my mail,” Rey said aloud. “Now you’ve ruined my letter.” 

_Apologies. I can buy you more paper._

“I don’t believe you have any money.” 

_ Of course I do, this house is in my name._

“I think that only works for living persons and we’re not entirely sure about your status.” 

_ Do I not feel alive to you?_

Rey felt a shiver run down her spine that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Ben felt as real to her as anyone else, more so at times. Though his touch was cold, it was still a touch. 

She parted her lips to speak but couldn’t think of anything in reply. She sat in silence until the pen gently dropped to the table. He appeared right behind her, bending over her chair, his face hovering over her shoulder. 

“What do you think, Rey? Do I feel real?” his voice was a low whisper, his breath cool against her ear. Rey shivered, but she did not feel cold.

“Real or alive?” Rey asked, her eyes on the paper in front of her, her heartbeat growing into a rapid march. 

“Same thing. Alive means you can interact with them, that they’re of this world. I’m with you now, aren’t I? If you can talk with me and touch me then I must be alive.” Ben shifted behind her and she turned her head just enough to meet his eyes. He was so close to her, all she’d have to do was shift and their lips would touch. Her mouth went dry. 

“I suppose you are,” Rey finally stuttered out. 

“Miss Niima?” a voice called from the other side of the door. Rey moved to answer it, but Ben laid a hand on her shoulder. 

“Don’t.” His voice low, his eyes half closed. 

“I have to,” Rey said, still in a daze. 

“It’s just Hux,” he replied. 

“Ben… ” Rey trailed off and made no attempt to move to the door. She was locked in place by Ben’s eyes and she too wished Hux would simply leave. 

“Rey?” Hux announced again. 

Ben pressed a cold hand to her check, Rey leaned into his touch letting the chill sink into her skin. 

“Rey are you alright--” She heard the click of the door a second too late. Hux stood in the doorway, a glass bottle of some kind of medicine in hand, staring at them. Ben vanished but not quick enough. “Wha-”

Hux didn’t bother asking before marching into her room and standing in the space Ben had just left. Rey was frozen in her chair, unsure of what to do next. She could run, she could lie, but truthfully she felt blank and frightened and entirely in over her head. 

Hux’s gaze moved down to meet her. 

“It was you,” he spat at her, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to inspect the corrosion of her soul. Though Armitage Hux never tended to speak kindly with her, now his voice was filled with a venom she had yet to hear. 

“No, I--” Rey began feebly. 

“How did you even know he was in there? I locked him in years ago.” Hux’s words came through clenched teeth, his pale face covered in red hot blotches. Rey’s eyes snapped to the paper before she thought better of it. He followed her gaze and quickly snatched up the abandoned letter. He gave a cruel laugh, his lips twitching as if trying to decide to scowl or smile. 

“You stupid little woman,” he hissed at her, crumpling the paper in his fist and slamming it down on her desk. Rey jumped and he chuckled at her reaction. “And to think I thought you were smart -- loyal even.” 

He leaned over her, and Rey tried to move away but was caught by the back of her chair stuck between the desk and Hux’s body. 

“I should have known he could have persuaded an empty-headed girl like you to let him out.” Hux leered over her, caging her in further. “Now, where is the key?”

“I don’t have it,” she said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. 

“Don’t lie to me, woman,” Hux snapped. His fingers slipped into the bun at the back of her neck and yanked her head back by the hair. Her back arched as she tried to avoid the pain, her hands flying up to scratch at his hand. “Tell me where you’ve hidden it!” 

The familiar rattling of Ben’s pen rocking against the desk reached her ears. Rey had just enough time to glance at it before it launched into the air and was buried point first between Hux’s neck and shoulder. His fingers went slack in Rey’s hair and she pulled away from him the second she could. Rey stumbled out of the chair and onto the floor, looking up to see blood staining Hux’s coat, his hands fidgeting around the pen, unsure what to do with it. Rey scrambled to her feet, tripping on her skirts, and vaulted into the hallway. 

“Rey?” Finn called from the end of the hall. She stopped. He look horrified. “There’s blood on your face.” 

Rey reached a hand up to her cheek, the same one Ben had caressed just a few moments earlier. Her fingers came back red. Her stomach turned at the feeling of warm, sticky blood on her skin. She didn’t have much time to think any further. Hux followed her out of the room, slamming her against the opposite wall of the narrow servants’ corridor. 

“Hey!” Finn’s voice reached above the scrapping of shoes on stone and of Hux’s labored breath in her ear. 

“TELL ME WHERE IT IS!” Hux screamed into her face, blood oozing over his jacket.

“Get off of her!” Finn roared, hauling the man back by his shoulder. Hux shoved Finn away but the groundskeeper wasn’t about to let him leave unchecked. 

As the men struggled, Rey darted down to the hall to the door to the first floor. She heard a loud thump and turned to see Finn lying on the floor. His eyes were open but he appeared to have hit his head on the stone floor. Hux stood over him, seething, before his gaze snapped back to her. 

Rey gasped, quickly opening the door and running into the foyer. 

It was well into the evening, so only a handful of lamps in the manor were lit, and none were in this room. Rey could hear nothing but her own frantic breathing and thundering heartbeat. 

The air shimmered in front of her and Ben appeared, his eyes worried and his hands reaching out for her. 

“Rey!” His voice echoed in the large room as he reached her, wrapping her in a cool embrace. She held onto him, fingers digging into his vest as if he might vanish at any moment. If she held on tight enough, maybe she could keep him grounded, could keep him here. 

“He hurt Finn!” Rey gasped, pulling away enough to look up at him. “I don’t know if--” 

“You ignorant little--” Rey spun around, Ben’s hands holding her back by her shoulders. Hux leaned against the door frame to the servants’ hall. His face was pale, his jacket soaked in blood. His eyes hooked on Ben, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Good evening Mr. Solo, how nice to see you again.” 

Hux reached up, grabbing the pen out of his flesh. He winced, looking at the blood-soaked tool before tossing it aside. Crimson was smeared across his neck and white shirt, and his right arm hung awkwardly, as if damaged by the blow. 

“Armitage,” Ben seethed behind her, his fingers clenching around her shoulders tightly. 

“Couldn’t you have stayed in your room like a good boy?” Hux hissed, before spitting a glob of blood on the tile of the foyer. Rey shrunk back against Ben’s chest. Hux noticed the motion and his lips pulled into a wide grin. “Scared now, Rey?”

“Step back, Hux,” Ben said. 

“Who’s going to stop me? You? The yard boy?” Hux lifted an eyebrow, motioning to the empty room around them. “There’s no one here, Ben. You’re not even here.”

“Mr. Hux, please control yourself!” Rey said, finally finding her words. 

“Like you controlled yourself, Miss Niima?” Hux scowled at her. Rey set her lips into a firm line, standing up as straight as she could. She would not let this man scare her. “Now, give me my key.” 

Rey took a step forward, freeing herself from Ben’s grasp. She reached into her pocket, removing the key and holding it up between them. Moonlight bounced off the metal, sending stars across the floor. 

“If you want it, Mr. Hux,” she said, the key trembling between her fingers. “You’ll have to come get it.” 

The man launched forward, and Rey swept back, avoiding his first attack. She shoved the key deep into her pocket, freeing her hands to defend herself. Ben was at her back as soon as Hux had moved. 

“Rey, don’t--” 

Rey turned to look at Ben but was caught off guard as Hux threw himself forward again. His arms went around her waist and the pair passed through Ben as if he was mere air. They landed with a sickening thud against the tile, the impact ringing in Rey’s ears. Hux was on top of her, his legs pinning her down as his hands fumbled with her skirts, looking for her pocket. 

“Stop it!” Ben yelled. She saw him move towards them, and his fingers reached to grab Hux to haul him back but instead swept through him like smoke. Like the chair falling through his palms, Ben had no power to hold onto the living realm. It seemed the only thing he could hold onto was her. 

She shoved at Hux’s hands, her head throbbing from the fall. She reached back and felt a warm wetness in her hair. Had she hit her head? She didn’t remember falling that way. She blinked, and suddenly Hux was leaning over her dangling the key in her face. 

“You know what I think I’ll do? I think I’ll lock you up in there with him so he can watch you starve,” he hissed. Rey slapped her hand across his face, smearing the blood from her fingers over his cheekbone. Her hands went for the key; she could feel the metal against her hands but Hux pulled it out of her reach. He started to move off of her. He had what he had wanted. Rey blinked, her mind still spinning. 

She wasn’t going to let him go anywhere. 

With a yell, Rey threw herself up, grabbing the man by his greasy orange hair and pulling him down to the floor. The pair tumbled across the floor, each fighting for the key. Ben’s voice called out, but she could not hear what he said. She was focused on one thing and one thing only. 

Rey rolled them over, straddling Hux’s waist, her skirts pooled around them. She grabbed his hand and tried wrenching his fingers back to free the key. He laughed when her hands slipped and failed, the bloody mess from his neck coating everything in slick. Desperation shot through her chest and she moved down and dug her teeth into the flesh of his thumb. 

The man yelped, his fingers went slack, and Rey grabbed the key as it fell from his grasp. She managed to hold it in both hands close to her chest before they were tumbling across the floor again, her shoulders slammed into the hard tile. 

“Give it to me!” Hux screamed, his nails scratching lines of blood down her hands as he tried to pry them open. Thinking quickly, Rey brought her fingers to her mouth and popped the key between her lips. She bit down on the metal, pressing her lips firmly together. It tasted bitter, the tang of metal from the key and iron from Hux’s blood making her gag. “You little bitch!” 

Hux’s fingers were on her jaw, pulling and yanking her chin trying to open it. Ben hovered over them, desperately trying to haul Hux off of her, but his body failed to make contact. 

Suddenly, a chill fell over the whole room. It was abrupt enough that even Hux froze and looked up towards the staircase. Rey threw her head back, taking the scene in upside down. 

A man stood on the steps, lit from behind by the starlight from the windows. At first Rey thought it was one of Hux’s men. With another man to fight off she was done for. Except this man was all in black, his face coated in inky darkness. He stepped forward and stretched a hand out towards them. There was something familiar in the coldness that draped the room, as if someone was setting a blanket woven with threads of ice around you.

“No,” Hux’s weight shifted, his hands falling from her face to raise up in front of him. The figure moved closer. Rey wiggled trying to move out of its way, but Hux still had her pinned to the ground. The figure surged forward, its long coat sending a breeze across Rey’s face. Its boots stopped right beside her head. She looked up to see its black hand wrapped around Hux’s pale neck. She watched wide-eyed as Hux was lifted into the air by his throat. The man’s protests were cut off, reduced to garbled gasps. Rey quickly scrambled out from beneath them, scooting across the floor where Ben came to kneel beside her. They watched as the man in black’s grasp grew tighter around Hux’s throat. The man kicked and struggled, his hands scratching and grabbing at his own neck. He was trying to speak but couldn’t; there was no air left in him. Rey watched silently as his body grew weaker and his limbs went slack before his body collapsed to the floor. The man in black stared down at Hux’s form on the tile. 

Rey spit the key into her hand, the lingering taste of metal tingling across her tongue. The figure turned to them. It did not make a move towards them, nor say anything, only watched. 

Rey stood up, her body aching from scuffling across the floor. Ben stayed kneeling down but grabbed her hand. His eyes were firmly on the presence in front of them. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. She looked to him before looking back at the black figure. 

“You said it was a part of you.” 

“It is.” 

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled, her fingers squeezing Ben’s before she pocketed the key and held out a free hand to the figure. 

“It won’t hurt you, but I’m not positive about me,” Ben said, slowly standing to join Rey. She stepped forward, her hand held out further. The figure moved, its black gloved hand reaching out. 

“He won’t,” she said. “Not anymore.” 

She slipped her hand into his, warmth radiated from his grip and a pulse beat against her fingers. Rey felt a shock run through her, her body connecting two halves of a whole together. She gripped both of their hands as exhaustion fell over her. Her eyes slid closed and when her knees gave out and she started to fall, only one pair of hands caught her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy tuesday!


	9. Epilogue

After so long, it felt odd to whole again. He often found himself holding his palm against his chest, feeling his heart beat a steady rhythm after silence for so many years. Of course, with the wonder of a heartbeat came all the inconveniences of life. For one, he was absolutely starving after becoming whole, so hungry that even Finn’s stew tasted delicious. 

News spread quickly and soon it was the talk of the countryside and the burrows in town that the long absent heir to Chandrila Manor had finally returned. He told everyone he had been traveling in America, and made sure to study the area in case anyone asked too many questions. Rey had suggested he ran into misfortunes, and to simply say he did not wish to discuss them. Surprisingly, it worked every time. 

He took over the care of the manor from the Solo’s executor who no one came asking for. Not that anyone cared to write to him anyway, he was an unpleasant man at the best of times, who kept unsavory company. 

There was a lot of talk of marriage when he first returned, including many invitations to parties and letters flat out asking if he was interested in marrying a daughter of this baron or that count. He took great pleasure in disappointing all of them by marrying a former housekeeper with no family. There was a lot of talk that he was just like his mother, ruining a good blood line for the sake of emotion. He’d do it again in a heartbeat and he knew she would have too. While the bitterness among the affluent families was palpable the rumors from the wedding was that she looked absolutely regal in her dress and that, despite the disparity in station, they both seemed quite happy. 

The manor was now filled with guests. His uncle, for one, was a frequent visitor. While relations still remained tense, they managed to have tea every now and then. And Skywalker absolutely adored his wife; they largely tolerated one another to both be in her presence. He could not blame his uncle for wanting to speak with Miss Solo at every available moment, she was relentlessly charming and always held a sense of curiosity in whatever he spoke about. Ben would find himself watching her simply listen to his uncle drone on for hours and found himself perfectly content. 

Miss Tico had moved to the countryside with them at Rey’s request. She quickly earned a reputation in the country as talkative, brash, and all together an unruly woman that everyone couldn’t help but listen to. Poe Dameron, the lonely man in the cottage by the lake often came by for visits with his dear friend Finn. One might take them for brothers as they seemed to have known each other forever.

However, the aspect of life as fully live man that Ben Solo appreciated the most was his dear wife. How her cheeks flushed if he teased her, and the warmth of her lips beneath his. They still wrote notes to each other. Passing letters back and forth in the library like naughty school children. 

She was strange. She was honest, stubborn, impossibly beautiful, and the most wondrous woman he had ever met. Every morning, he feared he would wake up in the blue room trapped in a lonely prison with only a window to stare out of as he watched life tick by with each passing month. He thought he might split again, his rage growing large enough to pull apart from his body and torment the house, taking his heartbeat with it. 

But it never did. He always woke up in her arms, and his anger never spilled over like it used to. He had nothing to rage over, had nothing to be cruel to. He was happy, genuinely happy, for the very first time in his life. 

He moved the old portrait in the foyer aside, replacing the nameplate to read Ben Solo as his wife had requested, and placed beside it a new one. A young woman with brown hair curling around her face sat in a maroon dress. She peered through the portrait with knowing hazel eyes, a small silver key hanging from her clasped hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy last Tuesday! Thanks for reading ❤️


End file.
